PHILADELPHIA 

THE  PL  ACE  AND  THE  PEOPLE 


nes  ReDvlier 


PHILADELPHIA 


PHILADELPHIA 


THE    PLACE   AND   THE    PEOPLE 


BY 
AGNES  REPPLIER 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

Neiv    York   igis 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  co.  LIMITED 


f'5 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped  October,  1898.      Reprinted  December, 
1898";  November,  1904  ;  January,  1909. 


NorfoooB 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


3T0  tfje  fHem0rg  of 
PHILADELPHIA'S   FOUNDER 


250032 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION xvii 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  QUAKER  CITY. 

William  Perm's  childhood.  —  Nonconformity  at  Oxford. 

—  Gay  life  in  France  and  Ireland.  —  Converted  to  Quaker- 
ism by  Fox.  —  "No  Cross,  no  Crown."  — Province  of  Penn- 
sylvania granted  by  Charles  II.  to  Penn. — Framing  the 
"Great  Law" 1 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  QUAKER  CITY. 

Philadelphia's  first  homes.  —  "  Great  Treaty"  at  Shacka- 
maxon.  —  Dispute  with  Lord  Baltimore.  —  Return  of  Penn 
to  England 15 

CHAPTER  III 
THE  QUAKER  CITY'S  CHILDHOOD. 

Early  colonial  life. —Philadelphia's  first  schools. —Her 
malefactors  and  witches.  —  Religious  sects.  —  Whitefield.  — 
Hostility  to  Roman  Catholics.  —  Gloria  Dei.  —  Christ  Church. 

—  Its  influence  in  the  colony. — Contest  between  Quakers 

and  Episcopalians  .........      25 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  WILLIAM  PENN. 

Penn  at  the  court  of  James  II.  —  Disgraced,  after  the 
accession  of  William  III.  —  Visits  Philadelphia.  —  Penns- 
bury.  —  Discontent    of    wife    and    daughter.  —  Return    to 
England.  —  Financial  troubles.  —  Death.  —  Opinion  of  Swift      52 
vii 


Vlll  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  V 

PAGE 

How  THE  QUAKER  CITY  GREW. 

Paper  currency. — Philadelphia's  prosperity.  —  Pastimes. 

—  Actors.  —  The    Hallams.  —  Opposition    to    plays.  —  Old 
Southwark  Theatre.  —  Deceits  and  devices  ....      65 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BIRTH  OP  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER  CITY. 

Academy  of  Natural  Sciences. — The  city's  debt  to 
Franklin.  —  Philadelphia  Library.  —  Founding  the  college. 

—  Its  stormy  life.  —  Provost  Smith.  —  Hostility  of  the  Con- 
stitutionalists. —  The    Philosophical    Society.  —  Transit    of 
Venus. — Distinguished  members  ......      80 

CHAPTER  VII 

THE  STATE  HOUSE  AND  ITS  MESSAGE. 

The  "Towne  House."  —  Building  the  State  House. — Its 
historic  interest.  —  The  Liberty  Bell.  —  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence   106 

CHAPTER  VIII 

How  THE  QUAKER  CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY. 

Increasing  wealth  of  Philadelphia.  —  Quaker  almshouses. — 
Gabriel  and  Evangeline.  — Pennsylvania  Hospital.  —  Creat- 
ure comforts  and  display.  —  Journal  of  Jacob  Hiltzheimer. 

—  Franklin's  household.  —  James  Logan.  —  Stenton.  —  In 

gay  attire. — The  Dancing  Assemblies 114 

CHAPTER   IX 

WAR  AND  THE  RUMOURS  OF  WAR. 

Hostilities  with  the  Indians.  —  "Walking  Purchase."  — 
Braddock's  defeat.  — Expedition  against  Fort  Du  Quesne. 

—  The  "Paxton  Boys." — Murder  of  the   Conestoga  Ind- 
ians.—  Philadelphia  threatened. — Bouquet's  triumph          .    137 


CONTENTS  IX 

CHAPTER  X 

PAGK 

THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Philadelphia's  country  seats.  —  Belmont. — Mount  Pleas- 
ant. —  Fairhill.  —  Lansdowne.  —  John  Bartram.  —  Journal 
of  Elizabeth  Drinker 161 

CHAPTER  XI 
THE  DAWN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

The  Stamp  Act.  —  "  Farmer's  Letters."  —  Tea  ship 
Polly  —  Continental  Congress.  —  Conservative  Quakers.  — 
News  of  the  battle  of  Lexington 178 

CHAPTER  XII 

WAR. 

Committee  of  Safety.  —  "* Common  Sense'  for  eighteen 
pence."  —  Convention  of  1776.  — New  constitution  for  Penn- 
sylvania. —  Lee's  resolutions.  —  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence. — Approach  of  General  Howe.  — The  "Free  Quakers  "  191 

CHAPTER  XIII 
A  GAT  CAPTIVITY. 

General  Howe  enters  Philadelphia.  —  Battle  of  German- 
town.  —  Destruction  of  the  forts.  — Gayeties  of  the  winter. 

—  South wark  Theatre.  — Letters  of  Miss  Rebecca  Franks.  — 
The  Mischianza.  —  General  Howe  recalled.  —  Departure  of 

Sir  Henry  Clinton.  —  Battle  of  Monmouth  .        .        .        .      216 

CHAPTER  XIV 
LORDS  OF  MISRULE. 

Triumph  of  the  mob.  —  Unpopularity  of  General  Arnold. 

—  The    robber    Doans.  —  Persecution    of    the    Quakers.  — 
Journal  of  Elizabeth  Drinker.  —  Depreciation  of  the  cur- 
rency. —  Alliance  with  France.  —  Franklin  in  Paris.  —  Ar- 
nold's   treachery. — Andrews    death. — Arrival    of    French 
troops.  —  Surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis         .        .        .        .     237 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XV 

PAGE 

RECONSTRUCTION. 

Fgte  du  Dauphin.  —  Attack  on  the  Bank  of  North  Amer- 
ica.—  Robert  Morris. — The  Chevalier  de  Beaujour. — Na- 
tional Constitution.  —  Federal  procession.  —  State  Constitu- 
tion. —  Death  of  Franklin 258 

CHAPTER  XVI 
PHILADELPHIA  REGNANT. 

Return  of  Congress  to  Philadelphia.  —  Washington's  re- 
ceptions.—  General  extravagance.  —  "The  dazzling  Mrs. 
Bingham."  —  Brissot  de  Warville.  —  Art  and  letters.  —  Dis- 
comforts of  travel '  .  .  279 

CHAPTER  XVII 
Two  FORMS  OP  FEVER. 

Enthusiasm  for  France.  —  L' Ambuscade.  —  Genet.  — 
"Dansons  la  Carmagnole."  —  Yellow  fever. — Letters  of 
Dr.  Benjamin  Rush.  —  Battle  of  the  drugs.  —  Whiskey  dis- 
tillers. —  Dr.  George  Logan.  —  Withdrawal  of  state  legislat- 
ure to  Harrisburg,  and  of  Congress  to  Washington  .  .  295 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
DEPRESSION. 

Embargo  Act  of  1807.  — War  of  1812.  —  Discovery  of 
Pennsylvania's  coal  mines.  —  Visit  of  La  Fayette.  —  Wistar 
parties.  —  Franklin  Institute.  —  "  Old  Ironsides."  —  Penn- 
sylvania Historical  Society.  —  Stephen  Girard  and  his 
school.  —  Refusal  of  President  Jackson  to  re-charter  the 
Bank  of  the  United  States. —Financial  distress  .  .  .317 

CHAPTER  XIX 
RIOTS. 

Negro  riots. — Burning  of  Pennsylvania  Hall.  —  "Native 
American  "  riots.  —  Hibernia  Hose  House.  —  Burning  of  St. 


CONTENTS  XI 

PAG* 

Michael's  and  St.  Augustine's  Roman  Catholic  churches.  — 
Desperate  fighting  in  the  streets.  —  Consolidation  Act  of 
1854 342 

CHAPTEE  XX 
THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

Philadelphia's  politics.  —  The  Copperheads.  —  Battle  of 
Gettysburg.  —  Drafting.  —  Sanitary  Fair.  —  Hospitals.  — 
Peace 356 

CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  QUAKER  CITY  OP  TO-DAY. 

Progress.  —  Centennial  Exhibition.  —  Bullitt  Bill.  — Mere- 
tricious architecture.  —  City  Hall.  —  Academy  of  the  Tine 
Arts.  —  University  of  Pennsylvania.  —  Bryn  Mawr  College. 
— Fairmount  Park.  —  The  Quaker  City  ....  367 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

William  Perm       ........       Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Penn's  Crest 5 

"  A  Site  for  a  Fair  City  " 11 

Penn's  Seal 13 

Penn's  Wampum  Belt 15 

"  The  Demure  Little  Letitia  House  " 19 

"  Over  the  Cooling  Wave  " 23 

Map  of  Philadelphia,  1682 26 

"  Along  the  River's  Bank  " 30 

"  The  Meeting-House " 33 

St.  David's  at  Radnor 38 

Gloria  Dei 43 

"The  Antique  Font" 44 

Christ  Church 47 

Gloria  Dei 51 

"  The  Slate  Roof  House  " 56 

Penn's  Desk 58 

Logan  Arms          ..........  64 

Old  House  on  Race  Street  Wharf 69 

An  Alley 77 

Doorway  on  Pine  Street       .                80 

Franklin's  Clock 86 

Portrait  of  Franklin 88 

"Woodlands" 91 

Library  of  University  of  Pennsylvania 98 

Doorways 100 

xiii 


XIV  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Liberty  Bell v  106 

The  "  Towne  House  " 108 

Old  State  House .        .        s^.  Ill 

State  House 112 

Case  containing  Original  of  Declaration  of  Independence    .        .  113 

Quaker  Almshouse 116 

Pennsylvania  Hospital 121 

A  Bit  of  Pennsylvania  Hospital 123 

Stenton 129 

Franklin's  Punch  Keg 136 

St.  Peter's  Church 145 

In  Old  St.  Peter's 156 

"  A  stately,  strong  old  House  " 162 

"In  the  old  Wister  Homestead" 165 

u  The  old  Bartram  Homestead  " 171 

Interior  of  Carpenters'  Hall 178 

Carpenters'  Hall  .        .        .        . 185 

Inkstand  in  Independence  Hall 191 

House  of  Betty  Ross,  where  First  American  Flag  was  made        .  196 

Room  in  State  House  where  Declaration  was  signed    .        .        .  203 

"  This  strong  old  Country  House  " 219 

Major  Andre 223 

Walnut  Grove 228 

Mt.  Pleasant  :  Arnold's  Home 239 

Woodford  House 246 

Stairway  in  State  House 250 

Washington's  Desk 259 

"  The  Old  State  House  " 271 

Franklin's  Grave 278 

Morris  House,  Germantown 284 

Tea-Room  in  Morris  House 288 

"  A  Nymph  holding  a  Swan  " 291 

Old  Market-Place  ,  295 


ILLUSTRATIONS  XV 

PAGE 

The  Schuylkill's  Bank 298 

An  Old  Street       .                 304 

Jefferson's  Chair 311 

In  Fairmount  Park 317 

The  Mint 324 

Old  Houses  by  the  River 325 

Masonic  Temple ,330 

Girard  College 337 

"  The  Silent  City  " 341 

A  Negro  Alley .        .        .344 

Interior  of  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral 350 

Old  Market-Place 353 

"Over  the  Roof  of  Independence  Hall" 358 

Chestnut  Street 362 

Fairmount  Park 367 

Horticultural  Hall 369 

City  Hall 374 

Art  Club 376 

Library  of  University  of  Pennsylvania         .....  379 

Pembroke  Hall,  Byrn  Mawr  College 381 

Lily  Pond,  Fairmount  Park 384 

The  "  Solitude  " 386 

Flower  Beds,  Fairmount  Park 388 


INTRODUCTION 

of  the  mists  that  mercifully  conceal  those  early 
school-days  which,  being  forgotten,  are  unduly 
praised,  comes  the  spectre  of  a  little  American  history 
with  green  sides  and  a  red  back,  an  odious  little  his- 
tory, arranged  in  questions  and  answers  like  a  cate- 
chism, and  wholly  destitute  of  anything  that  could 
arouse  childish  interest  or  quicken  childish  enthusiasm. 
One  page  and  one  only  lingers  in  my  memory,  as  a  re- 
turn for  the  many  gloomy  hours  wasted  in  the  com- 
panionship of  this  book,  —  a  page  containing  a  print 
of  West's  picture,  of  the  "  Great  Treaty "  at  Shacka- 
maxon. 

Our  grandfathers  loved  this  picture,  and  implicitly 
believed  all  the  details  of  the  incident  it  portrays. 
We  have  outgrown  our  grandfathers'  narrow  artistic 
standards,  and  their  broad  historic  credulity  ;  and  the 
agreeable  consciousness  of  such  double  progress  en- 
riches our  self-esteem.  Yet  it  is  a  pleasant  scene  that 
West  painted  in  those  easy,  ignorant  days,  when  im- 
pressionism had  still  to  be  invented,  and  people  had 
not  begun  to  make  a  fetich  of  truth.  The  "Treaty 
Elm"  spreading  its  mighty  branches,  as  proud  and  as 

xvii 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

honoured  as  England's  "Royal  Oak."  William  Penn, 
years  older  than  his  age,  dressed  as  he  never  did  dress 
in  early  manhood,  benignantly  blessing  everybody. 
Venerable  Friends,  in  the  loosest  and  longest  of  coats, 
holding  a  parchment  deed  of  mighty  bulk,  the  docu- 
ment which  has  been  lost  for  more  than  two  hundred 
years.  Boxes  and  bales  of  goods  scattered  on  the 
sward.  Indian  braves  solemnly  inspecting  their  con- 
tents. Indian  squaws  and  pappooses  grouped  pictu- 
resquely in  the  foreground.  The  whole  composition 
suggesting  an  entertainment  midway  between  a  church 
fair  arid  an  afternoon  tea,  placid,  decorous,  satisfactory, 
and  sincere. 

This  was  the  peaceful  fashion  in  which  the  little 
Quaker  colony  took  her  infant  steps,  this  was  the 
atmosphere  which  nurtured  her  tender  youth.  And 
now,  after  two  centuries  have  rolled  slowly  by,  some- 
thing of  the  same  spirit  lingers  in  the  quiet  city  which 
preserves  the  decorum  of  those  early  years,  which  does 
not  jostle  her  sister  cities  in  the  race  of  life,  nor  shout 
loud  cries  of  triumph  in  their  ears,  nor  flaunt  magnifi- 
cent streamers  in  the  breeze  to  bid  the  world  take  note 
of  each  pace  she  advances. 

Every  community,  like  every  man,  carries  to  old 
age  the  traditions  of  its  childhood,  the  inheritance 
derived  from  those  who  bade  it  live.  And  Philadel- 
phia, though  she  has  suffered  sorely  from  rude  and 
alien  hands,  still  bears  in  her  tranquil  streets  the 


INTEODUCTION  ,  XIX 

impress  of  the  Founder's  touch.  Simplicity,  dignity, 
reserve,  characterize  her  now  as  in  Colonial  days.  She 
remembers  those  days  with  silent  self-respect,  placing 
a  high  value  upon  names  which  then  were  honoured,  and 
are  honoured  still.  The  pride  of  the  past  mingles  and 
is  one  with  the  pride  of  the  present.  The  stainless 
record  borne  by  her  citizens  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago  flowers  anew  in  the  stainless  record  their  great- 
great-grandsons  bear  to-day  ;  and  the  city  cherishes  in 
her  cold  heart  the  long  annals  of  the  centuries,  softening 
the  austerity  of  her  presence  for  these  favoured  inheri- 
tors of  her  best  traditions.  She  is  not  eager  for  the 
unknown  ;  she  is  not  keen  after  excitement ;  she  is  not 
enamoured  of  noise.  Her  least  noticeable  character- 
istic is  enthusiasm.  Her  mental  balance  cannot  lightly 
be  disturbed.  Sartout  pas  trap  de  z$le,  she  says  with 
Talleyrand  ;  and  the  slow,  sure  process  by  which  her 
persuasions  harden  into  convictions  does  not  leave  her, 
like  a  derelict,  at  the  mercy  of  wind  and  wave.  She 
spares  herself  the  arduous  labour  of  forming  new 
opinions  every  morning,  by  recollecting  and  cherishing 
her  opinions  of  yesterday.  It  is  a  habit  which  pro- 
motes solidity  of  thought. 

To  those  who  by  right  of  heritage  call  themselves 
her  sons,  and  even  to  such  step-children  as  are,  by 
nature  or  grace,  attuned  to  the  chill  tranquillity  of  their 
foster  mother,  Philadelphia  has  a  subtle  charm  that 
endures  to  the  end  of  life.  In  the  restful  atmosphere 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

of  her  sincere  indifference,  men  and  women  gain  clear- 
ness of  perspective,  and  the  saving  grace  of  modesty. 
Few  pedestals  are  erected  for  their  accommodation. 
They  walk  the  level  ground,  and,  in  the  healthy 
absence  of  local  standards,  have  no  alternative  save 
to  accept  the  broad  disheartening  standards  of  the 
world.  Philadelphians  are  every  whit  as  mediocre 
as  their  neighbours,  but  they  seldom  encourage  each 
other  in  mediocrity  by  giving  it  a  more  agreeable  name. 
Something  of  the  old  Quaker  directness,  something  of 
the  old  Quaker  candour,  —  a  robust  candour  not  easily 
subdued,  —  still  lingers  in  the  city  founded  by  the 
44  white  truth-teller,"  whose  word  was  not  as  the  words 
of  other  men,  —  spoken  to  conceal  his  thoughts,  and 
the  secret  purpose  of  his  soul. 

Deep  is  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  the  City  of 
Peace  owes  to  the  many  hands  that  have  laboured  for 
two  hundred  years  in  her  behalf;  but  deepest  of  all 
is  her  debt  to  Penn  who  knew  her  little  but  who 
loved  her  well,  whom  she  thrust  aside  from  her  coun- 
cils, and  forgot  in  his  hour  of  need,  but  whose  in- 
fluence lingers  to-day  in  that  atmosphere  of  serenity 
which  is  the  finest  characteristic  of  Philadelphia. 
More  impetuous  towns  speed  like  meteors  011  their 
paths,  dazzling  the  western  world  by  their  velocity, 
and  dazzled  themselves  by  their  own  glitter  and  glory  ; 
but  the  Quaker  City  sees  them  rush  by  without  envy, 
without  ambition,  without  distaste,  without  emotions 


INTRODUCTION  XXI 

of  any  kind.  She  knows,  and  she  has  known  for 
many  years,  what  is  best  for  her ;  and  if  this  best  be 
ever  out  of  reach,  it  is  not  by  mere  swiftness  of  step 
that  she  can  hope  to  overtake  it.  She  is  content  to 
grow  slowly  if  she  can  grow  symmetrically,  and  if 
grace  and  strength  keep  pace  with  her  increasing  bulk. 
She  is  content  to  face  the  future  if  she  can  hold  closely 
to  the  past,  recalling  its  lessons,  valuing  its  traditions, 
respecting  its  memory,  and  loving  in  her  cold,  steadfast 
fashion  the  living  links  which  connect  her  with  her 
honourable  history,  with  her  part  in  the  great  story  of 
the  nation. 


PHILADELPHIA 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  FOUNDER   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 

TT  is  hard  for  us  who  live  in  an  age  of  careless  and 
cheerful  tolerance  to  understand  the  precise  incon- 
veniences attending  religious  persecution.  The  lamen- 
table decline  of  church  -discipline  leaves  us  powerless  to 
interfere  with  the  erroneous  convictions  of  our  neigh- 
bours, and  our  own  polite  indifference  permits  them  to 
cherish  their  delusions  unassailed.  We  are  so  full  of 
courteous  phrases,  pulpit  bowing  to  pulpit,  and  "Apres 
vans.  Monsieur"  murmured  all  along  the  line,  that  it  is 
like  stepping  into  another  world,  into  a  bleak,  clear, 
atmosphere  of  sincere  ungraciousness,  when  we  hear 
what  old  Robert  Burton  —  a  man  of  infinite  good  tem- 
per —  has  to  say  anent  the  Anabaptists ;  or  when  we 
listen  to  the  vigorous  anathemas  launched  by  Sydney 
Smith  against  the  Methodists,  or  even  when  we  open 
the  diary  of  that  fine  old  English  gentleman,  John 
Evelyn,  and  read  his  opinion  of  Quakers.  On  the 
eighth  of  July,  1656,  he  visits  some  of  these  innocent 
offenders  in  prison ;  and,  far  from  expressing  any  sym- 


2    '  PHILADELPHIA 

pathy  for  their  sufferings,  or  any  admiration  for  their 
fortitude,  he  writes  them  coldly  down  a  "  fanatic  sect 
of  dangerous  principles,  who  show  no  respect  to  any 
man,  magistrate  or  other,  and  seem  a  melancholy,  proud 
sort  of  people,  and  exceedingly  ignorant." 

One  year  before  this  prison  visit,  little  William  Penn, 
a  boy  of  eleven,  enjoyed  his  first  ghostly  "manifesta- 
tion." There  was  "an  external  glory  in  the  room," 
and  the  voice  of  the  Lord  rang  in  his  ears  and  in  his 
heart,  summoning  him  to  the  life  of  the  spirit,  and  to 
the  relinquishment  of  earthly  vanities.  The  visionary 
child,  with  his  brilliant  eyes,  his  fluent  speech,  his 
moods  of  strange  abstraction,  must  have  been  a  sore 
trial  to  his  father,  that  hearty  sailor,  Sir  William  Penn, 
who,  being  himself  singularly  unvexed  by  nice  distinc- 
tions of  creed,  failed,  at  any  time,  to  understand  what 
his  troublesome  son  was  worrying  about.  Vice-Admiral 
of  England's  navy  at  thirty-one,  Sir  William  fought  as 
valiantly  and  as  blithely  for  Cromwell  as  for  Charles. 
England's  foes  were  his  foes,  and  England's  ruler  was 
his  ruler,  and  England's  faith  was  his  faith  ;  and  it  was 
certainly  not  a  sailor's  business  to  inquire  too  closely 
into  these  things,  nor  to  meddle  with  church  or  state. 
The  friend  and  associate  of  Mr.  Samuel  Pepys,  —  who 
at  heart  cordially  detested  him,  —  his  careless  gallantry 
to  Mrs.  Pepys  aroused  the  jealousy  of  her  neglectful 
and  exacting  husband.  It  was  at  Penn's  house  that 
Mr.  Pepys  supped  so  gayly  one  Sunday  night  —  the 


THE  FOUNDER   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 

Vice-Admiral's  brother,  "  a  traveller  and  a  merry  man," 
being  of  the  party  —  that  the  next  morning  found  the 
wretched  diarist  sick  and  befuddled,  with  an  aching 
head,  and  a  spirit  steeped  in  woe.  Then  came  along 
Sir  William,  in  nowise  the  worse  for  his  potations,  and, 
pitying  the  civilian's  miserable  plight,  advised  him  jovi- 
ally to  drink  "two  draughts  of  sack,"  as  a  sure  remedy 
for  his  disorder,  —  which  counsel  Mr.  Pepys  promptly 
followed,  and  found  the  physic  marvellously  efficacious. 
Did  little  William  peep  in  upon  this  scandalous  sup- 
per party,  and  listen  to  the  merry  uncle's  tales,  made 
all  the  merrier  by  his  mellow  mood  ?  The  boy  was  no 
youthful  prig,  for  all  his  visions  and  manifestations. 
He  was  straight,  and  tall,  and  strong,  loved  athletic 
sports,  had  a  fluctuating  taste  for  cheerful  company, 
and  showed  no  lack  of  discernment  anent  things  that 
were  of  the  earth  earthy.  Between  him  and  his  father 
there  existed  a  cordial  understanding  until  at  Oxford 
he  began  to  attend  the  preaching  of  Thomas  Fox, 
instead  of  going  duly  to  the  college  service.  This 
might  have  been  passed  over,  but  the  immediate  re- 
sults were  of  a  character  which  demanded  notice. 
Young  Penn  not  only  refused  to  wear  his  academic 
gown, — as  savouring  vaguely  of  prelacy, — but  he  appar- 
ently refused  to  permit  other  students  to  wear  theirs  in 
peace  ;  and  his  attitude  was  so  determined  and  annoy- 
ing— the  gowns  being  unpopular  at  best  —  that  he  was 
sent  down  from  college  for  nonconformity  in  1661. 


4  PHILADELPHIA 

Sir  William,  angry,  distressed,  and  hopelessly  be- 
wildered by  what  seemed  to  him  much  ado  about  noth- 
ing, decided,  like  a  wise  old  worldling,  not  to  make  a 
martyr  of  his  son  by  showing  any  grave  displeasure, 
but  to  despatch  him  at  once  to  France,  where  he  might 
be  trusted  to  quickly  forget  this  unimaginable  folly. 
To  Paris  accordingly  went  the  youthful  Penn,  was  pre- 
sented at  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  enjoyed  the  new 
experience  amazingly,  and  made  a  brave,  boyish  figure 
amid  those  brilliant  scenes.  In  fact,  when  he  returned 
to  England,  he  was  what  Mr.  Pepys  termed  a  "  modish 
person";  and  we  note  in  the  diary  a  ring  of  amusing 
but  very  human  displeasure  at  the  admiration  this 
"compleat  young  gentleman"  never  failed  to  excite. 
"  Comes  Mr.  Penn  to  visit  me,"  writes  the  unpacified 
Pepys.  "  I  perceive  something  of  learning  he  hath 
got ;  but  a  great  deal,  if  not  too  much,  of  the  vanity  of 
the  French  garb,  and  affected  manner  of  speech  and 
gait." 

The  cure  being  thus  happily  effected,  Penn  began  to 
enjoy  life  in  earnest,  and  found  London  very  little 
behind  Paris  in  affording  the  means  of  entertainment. 
The  terrible  advent  of  the  Plague  oppressed  him,  in- 
deed, not  unnaturally,  with  "  a  deep  sense  of  the  vanity 
of  the  world "  ;  but  he  shook  off  this  heavy-hearted- 
ness  in  Ireland,  whither  his  father  had  sent  him  to 
look  after  the  family  estates,  and  where  we  find  him 
presently  fighting  with  carnal  weapons  —  and  in  the 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  QUAKER  CITY 


gayest  of  spirits  —  to  put  down  one  of  those  period- 
ical uprisings  which  for  many  centuries  have  diversi- 
fied the  monotony  of  Irish  life.  So  well  did  this 
brief  campaign  please  him,  that  he  decided  with 
swift  incontinence  to  adopt  the  profession  of  arms, 
which  decision  was, 
strangely  enough, 
combated  by  the  sail- 
or father,  who  had 
destined  his  clever 
son  for  the  civil  ser- 
vice, and  who  was 
shrewd  enough  to 
know  in  what  field  a 
man's  fortunes  might 
be  most  rapidly  ad- 
vanced. It  was  dur- 
ing the  warlike 
episode  of  1666  that 
the  charming  picture 
was  painted  which 
now  seems  so  utterly  at  variance  with  Penn's  career, 
and  which,  for  that  very  reason  perhaps,  has  been 
prized,  and  cherished,  and  duplicated,  until  it  is  pleas- 
antly familiar  to  us  all.  The  original  still  hangs,  it 
is  said,  on  the  walls  of  that  stately  home  which  John 
Penn  the  younger  built  for  himself  on  the  Isle  of 
Portland,  and  which  is  now  the  seat  of  J.  Merrick 


PENN'S  CREST 


6  PHILADELPHIA 

Head,  Esq. ;  but  the  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society 
in  Philadelphia  possesses  an  excellent  copy,  and  there 
is  another  at  Tempsf ord  Hall  in  Bedfordshire ;  while 
SchofFs  admirable  engraving  has  found  its  way  into 
hundreds  of  English  and  American  homes.  The 
half-length  portrait  in  steel  breastplate  and  lace 
cravat,  with  dark  hair  flowing  loosely  over  the  mail- 
clad  shoulders,  looks  more  like  a  cavalier  than  a 
Quaker.  The  brilliant  eyes  have  the  splendid  confi- 
dence of  youth ;  a  lurking  smile  is  lost  in  the  flexi- 
ble corners  of  the  mouth.  Altogether  a  gay  and 
gallant  young  gentleman,  and  not  unlike  the  portrait 
of  the  gay  and  gallant  Admiral  his  father,  which, 
painted  by  Sir  Peter  Lely,  ruffles  it  in  conscious 
pride  on  the  walls  of  Greenwich  Hospital. 

At  the  very  time,  however,  that  the  world's  vic- 
tory seemed  securely  won,  it  was  on  the  eve  of  dis- 
comfiture. The  ubiquitous  and  untiring  Fox  was 
preaching  now  in  Ireland,  and  Penn's  pietism,  which 
had  been  either  lulled  to  sleep  by  pleasure,  or  for- 
gotten in  the  tumult  of  hard  work,  awoke  again  to 
vehement  life  under  the  controlling  influence  of  a 
religion  which  satisfied  all  the  spiritual  requirements 
of  his  nature.  The  doctrine  of  renunciation,  the 
yielding  up  of  worldly  distinctions,  —  this  had  always 
seemed  to  him  God's  word  spoken  to  the  soul ;  and 
once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  he  turned  resolutely 
away  from  a  life  filled  to  the  brim  with  honourable 


THE  FOUNDER   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY  7 

ambitions  and  rewards.  In  a  very  few  weeks  we 
find  him  arrested  for  "riot  and  tumultuous  assem- 
bling,"—  i.e.,  listening  peaceably  to  Quaker  ser- 
mons ;  and  —  having  not  yet  reached  that  point  of 
sanctity  when  persecution  becomes  a  pleasure  —  we 
find  him  also  writing  indignant  letters  to  Lord 
Orrery,  son  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  demanding  an 
immediate  release  from  jail.  Six  months  later,  Mr. 
Pepys  records  in  his  journal,  this  time  with  malicious 
satisfaction, — there  is  always  something  which  does 
not  displease  us  in  the  misfortunes  of  our  friends, — 
that  "Mr.  Penn,  who  has  lately  come  over  from 
Ireland,  is  a  Quaker  again,  or  some  such  melancholy 
thing." 

Sir  William,  exasperated  beyond  the  limits  of  endur- 
ance, argued  and  entreated  in  vain.  He  was  even  then 
willing  to  temporize  with  his  unmanageable  son,  being 
at  heart  sincerely  indifferent  as  to  what  that  son  be- 
lieved, provided  he  would  behave  like  other  people, 
which  was  precisely  what  the  ardent  young  convert  de- 
clined to  do.  A  compromise  of  the  broadest  kind  was 
finally  proposed.  Sir  William  declared  himself  ready 
to  close  his  eyes  to  all  eccentricities  —  they  were  simply 
eccentricities  to  him  —  if  Penn  in  return  would  consent 
to  uncover  to  the  King,  to  the  Duke  of  York,  and  to 
himself.  Penn  stanchly  refused,  and  left  his  father's 
roof  for  the  troubled  life  of  a  nonconformist  preacher 
in  London.  Mrs.  Oliphant,  who  wrote  an  elaborate 


8  PHILADELPHIA 

sketch  of  Philadelphia's  Founder,  marked  by  her  usual 
anxious  sense  of  justice,  and  by  more  than  her  usual 
lack  of  sympathy,  intimated  that,  beyond  some  gentle 
ridicule,  the  Quakers  suffered  little  persecution  from 
English  laws.  But  if  any  of  us  were  called  upon  to 
endure  as  much  to-day,  I  doubt  not  we  should  think  it 
heavy  enough.  The  Quakers  were  not  burned,  that  is 
true,  stakes  and  fagots  being  out  of  vogue  since  Mary's 
reign  ;  but  fines  and  imprisonment  grow  wearisome  to 
the  spirit,  and  so  Penn  probably  thought  when  he  found 
himself  committed  to  the  Tower  for  the  unlicensed  pub- 
lication of  "Sandy  Foundations  Shaken." 

The  book  made  a  profound  impression  upon  many 
minds.  Mrs.  Pepys  read  it  aloud  to  Mr.  Pepys,  who 
grows  strangely  serious  in  discussing  it.  It  is  well 
written,  he  thinks,  so  very  well  written  that  he  can 
hardly  understand  how  the  young  Penn  came  to  write 
it ;  yet  it  is  a  "  serious  sort  of  book,  and  not  fit  for 
everybody  to  read,"  —  Mr.  Pepys  being  of  Lord  Ches- 
terfield's opinion  concerning  those  who  disturb  the 
serene  convictions  of  society.  The  authorities  consid- 
ered it  eminently  unfit  for  everybody,  or  for  anybody, 
to  read  ;  and  its  author,  still  in  the  Tower,  defended  his 
principles  in  "No  Cross,  no  Crown,"  and  in  "Innocency 
with  her  Open  Face,"  a  charming  title  that  sounds  as 
though  it  had  come  straight  from  the  "  Faerie  Queene." 

The  good  offices  of  the  Duke  of  York  finally  pro- 
cured Penn's  release  from  prison,  and  Sir  William,  a 


THE  FOUNDER   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY  9 

perfect  model  of  long-suffering  paternity,  took  him 
back  into  favour, -his  contempt  for  Quakerism  being 
somewhat  modified  by  the  knowledge  that  it  had  in  no- 
wise weakened  his  son's  natural  aptitude  for  business. 
So  he  paid,  with  what  serenity  he  could  muster,  the 
fines  that  followed  on  each  new  indiscretion,  kept  him 
in  charge  of  the  Irish  estates,  and  bequeathed  to  him, 
when  he  died,  his  blessing,  an  annual  income  of  sixteen 
hundred  pounds,  and  a  claim  of  sixteen  thousand 
pounds  against  the  crown,  to  which  happy,  though  by 
no  means  unusual  circumstance,  we  owe  our  Quaker 
town.  To  wring  money,  especially  a  just  debt,  from 
the  Merry  Monarch  was  something  that  bordered  closely 
on  the  impossible.  Penn  realized  this  as  fully  as  his 
father  had  realized  it  before  him  ;  and,  pondering  the 
matter  over,  there  came  to  him  the  first  faint  outlines 
of  a  plan  which,  if  carried  out,  might  mean  not  wealth 
alone,  but  such  distinction  as  his  new  faith  permitted 
him  to  enjoy,  and,  above  all,  a  peaceful  haven  from  the 
petty  persecutions  which  assailed  him.  For  more  and 
more,  as  his  convictions  grew  and  strengthened,  had  he 
come  into  sharp  conflict  with  the  unyielding  majesty  of 
the  law,  and  he  was  not  fitted  by  nature  for  the  pas- 
sive role  of  sanctity.  His  father's  blood  ran  hotly  in 
his  veins,  and,  far  from  suffering  in  silence,  he  lifted  up 
his  voice  with  remarkable  fluency,  and  a  lamentable  lack 
of  meekness,  in  behalf  of  the  holy  cause.  A  young  man 
who  would  call  the  Vice-Chancellor  of  Oxford  a  "  poor 


10  PHILADELPHIA 

mushroom,"  must  have  studied  but  lamely  the  part  of 
consistent  and  dutiful  non-resistance* 

So  the  King  was  entreated  to  pay  the  Old  World 
debt  with  a  grant  of  New  World  land,  and  was  by  no 
means  ready  to  consent  to  even  this  kingly  compromise. 
Much  pleading  and  long  waiting  well-nigh  wore  out 
the  pleader's  patience,  before  Charles,  urged  by  the 
friendly  Duke  of  York,  set  his  royal  seal  in  1680  to  the 
parchment  which  made  William  Penn  governor  and 
proprietor  of  a  province  whose  boundaries  were  to  be 
disputed  for  many  years  to  come.  The  land  was  vested 
in  Penn  in  fee  simple,  subject  to  the  quit-rent  of  two 
beaver  skins,  and  a  fifth  part  of  its  gold  and  silver  ore, 
—  at  which  we  Pennsylvanians  smile  to-day,  thinking 
of  those  other  mines  which  lay  with  their  untold  wealth 
beneath  the  fertile  soil.  The  governor  was  invested  by 
the  charter  with  executive  and  legislative  power,  sub- 
ject to  the  control  of  the  Privy  Council,  and  to  the 
"  advice  and  consent  of  the  freemen  of  the  province," 
who  were  to  help  make  the  laws  before  they  reverenced 
and  obeyed  them.  Sylvania  was  the  pretty  name  chosen 
for  the  forest-covered  district,  to  which  appellation 
Charles  prefixed  the  Penn,  and  was  so  pleased  with  his 
royal  jest  that  he  refused  to  relinquish  it.  So  "  Pen- 
silvania,"  as  it  is  spelled  in  the  original  charter,  like 
Baltimore,  enshrines  its  founder's  memory,  and  affords 
a  welcome  relief  from  the  perpetual  "  New,"  —  New 
York,  New  England,  New  Jersey,  New  Orleans,  —  which 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 


11 


our  unimaginative  ancestors  were   never  weary  of  re- 
peating with  monotonous  loyalty  to  their  lost  homes. 

Matters  having  been  brought  to  this  successful  issue, 
Penn  applied  himself  immediately  to  a  threefold  task. 
He  despatched  his  cousin  William  Markham,  an  officer 
in  the  King's  navy,  as  deputy  governor,  to  the  province, 
to  inspect  its  condition,  to  report  upon  its  possibilities, 
to  choose  a  site  for  "  a  fair  city,"  and  above  all  to  assure 


A  SITE  FOR   '  A  FAIR  CITY 


the  Germans,  Swedes,  and  English  already  settled  along" 
the  Delaware  that  there  should  be  no  infringement  upon 
their  rights  and  privileges.  The  young  Proprietor 
next  drew  up  his  first  prospectus,  addressed  to  the  Free 
Society  of  Traders,  in  which  he  was  exceedingly  ex- 
plicit and  businesslike  concerning  the  cost  of  the  trip, 
the  buying  and  renting  of  land,  the  chances  offered  to 
agricultural  and  mechanical  labour  ;  only  permitting 
himself  a  few  words  of  gentle  allurement  when  describ- 


12  PHILADELPHIA 

ing  the  country  he  had  never  seen,  —  a  country,  he 
said,  teeming  with  fish  and  game,  and  "  six  hundred 
miles  nearer  the  sun  than  England,"  which  truth  prob- 
ably impressed  itself  forcibly  upon  the  colonists'  minds 
when  their  first  July  came  around.  The  result  of  this 
excellent  advertising  was  the  almost  immediate  sale  of 
five  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand  acres  of  land,  in 
lots  of  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  twenty  thousand 
acres. 

A  still  more  congenial  occupation  to  the  long-harassed 
and  persecuted  Quaker  was  the  framing  of  a  constitu- 
tion, of  a  code  of  laws  which  should  temper  justice  with 
mercy,  and  restrain  ill-doing,  while  it  permitted  the 
widest  possible  freedom  to  every  citizen.  In  this  labour 
of  love  Penn  was  nobly  assisted  by  Algernon  Sidney, 
and,  between  them,  they  produced  those  statutes  which 
Montesquieu  has  so  infelicitously  compared  to  the  laws 
of  Lycurgus,  but  which  in  truth  were  far  more  distin- 
guished by  leniency  than  by  Spartan  rigour.  At  a  time 
when  every  convicted  thief  was  promptly  hanged  in 
England,  Penn  found  no  crime  save  murder  to  warrant 
the  death  sentence.  The  clauses  which  punished  pro- 
fane swearing,  intemperance,  and  card  playing  ;  and 
which  strictly  forbade  the  "drinking  of  healths," 
"stage  plays,"  —  of  which  there  were  none,  —  " masks 
and  revels,"  and  all  "evil  sports  and  games," -  — even 
the  innocent  old  games  of  May-day,  were  added  to  the 
original  code  by  the  first  Assembly,  which  met  to  rep- 


THE  FOUNDER   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 


13 


resent  the  "  freemen  of  the  province "  in  1682.  A 
rather  unruly  Assembly  this,  and  as  troublesome  as 
freemen  and  their  representatives  were  ever  wont  to 
be.  It  marred  Penn's  beloved  constitution  with  a 
number  of  rigid  little  rules  and  regulations  to  promote 
sanctity,  or  the  pretence  of 
sanctity,  before  it  permitted 
his  statutes  to  pass  into  the 
"  Great  Law."  Yet  even  in 
this  altered  form  he  was  so 
strenuously  attached  to  it 
that,  as  soon  as  the  first 
schoolhouses  were  built  in 
Philadelphia,  he  ordered  it 
should  be  read  aloud  to  all 
the  boys  and  girls  every  scho- 
lastic year. 

In  one  respect  alone  the 
code  remained  unchanged. 
There  was  to  be  tolerance  in 
the  new  colony  for  every  form 
of  Christian  belief ;  "  free- 
dom," as  Gabriel  Thomas  aptly  phrased  it,  "  for  all 
persuasions  in  a  sober  and  civil  way."  This  tolerance 
was  so  far  in  advance  of  its  generation,  that  it  awoke 
surprise  and  consternation  rather  than  universal  de- 
light. The  New  World  had  been  as  ready  as  the  Old 
to  lay  a  chastening  hand  upon  every  unsanctioned  and 


PENN'S  SEAL 


14  PHILADELPHIA 

unwelcome  creed,  and  in  more  than  one  instance  the 
colonists  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  dispensing  to  others 
the  hard  fare  they  had  received  at  home.  Only  Lord 
Baltimore  and  Roger  Williams,  strangely  indifferent  to 
the  blessed  privilege  of  "  doing  as  you  have  been  done 
by,"  proclaimed  in  Maryland  and  Rhode  Island  the 
absolute  liberty  granted  to  every  subject  of  the  King 
to  worship  God  as  he  or  she  thought  right.  Quaker, 
Baptist,  and  Roman  Catholic  stood  side  by  side,  the 
pioneers  of  religious  freedom  in  America. 

To  Penn,  at  least,  it  all  seemed  so  natural,  so  reason- 
able, and  so  right.  He  was  but  thirty-six  when  the 
King  signed  that  memorable  parchment  deed,  and  his 
heart  beat  high  with  hope  as  the  peaceful  city  of  his 
dreams  shaped  itself  slowly  into  a  realized  ambition. 
He  had  married  a  wife  of  his  own  faith,  the  daughter 
of  Sir  William  Springett  of  Brayle  Place,  Ringmere, 
Sussex.  She  had  a  charming  Italian  name,  Gulielma 
Maria,  a  beautiful  face,  and  a  pious  disposition.  She 
bore  him  children,  children  who  were  still  too  young  to 
bring  sorrow  and  heartbreak  in  their  train.  A  man  in 
his  early  prime,  with  superb  health,  an  ample  fortune, 
an  honourable  career,  and,  above  and  beyond  all,  a 
mission  —  a  mission  in  which  he  firmly  believed,  and 
for  which  he  ardently  desired  success  —  what  wonder 
that  Penn  felt  an  exultant  "uplifting  of  the  spirit" 
when  he  looked  westward  over  the  great  grey  seas 
to  the  land  of  promise,  to  the  visionary  city  of  peace ! 


PENN'S  WAMPUM  BELT 

CHAPTER  II 

THE  FOUNDING   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 

TT  was  on  a  quiet  afternoon  in  the  autumn  of  1681 
"  that  three  ships  lay  in  London  harbour,  making 
ready  for  a  protracted  voyage,  fraught  with  some 
danger  and  every  possible  discomfort.  Past  these 
vessels  came  the  royal  barge,  its  silken  banners  flut- 
tering in  the  breeze  ;  and  the  King,  noticing  the 
swift  bustle  of  departure,  asked  what  ships  they 
were,  and  whither  they  were  bound?  On  being  told 
that  they  bore  the  first  Quaker  emigrants  to  Penn- 
sylvania, Charles  had  the  barge  rowed  closer,  and 
gravely,  yet  with  mirthful  eyes,  bestowed  his  princely 
blessing  on  the  decorous  groups,  who  stood,  their 
heads  covered,  but  their  hearts  filled  with  serious 
emotion,  to  receive  it.  They  understood  clearly 
enough  that  the  good-natured  monarch  had  always 
wished  them  well,  and  that  the  persecutions  they 
had  suffered  were  not  of  his  contriving.  Indeed,  it 
is  little  wonder  that  both  Charles  and  his  less  affable 
and  less  tolerant  brother  should  have  sincerely  liked 

15 


16  PHILADELPHIA 

the  Quakers,  who  seldom  gave  any  trouble,  took  no 
part  in  public  life,  and  shrank  from  the  noisy  quar- 
rels of  worldlings.  With  a  strange  indifference  to 
science,  to  wit,  to  learning,  and  to  literature,  they 
combined  a  breadth  of  vision,  a  sane  tolerance  of 
humanity,  and  an  instinctive  knowledge  of  what  we 
are  apt  to  consider  the  principles  of  purely  modern 
philanthropy.  "  Since  the  time  of  the  primitive 
Christians,"  says  Mr.  Sydney  Fisher,  "there  never 
had  been  such  apostles  of  gentleness.  They  were  a 
striking  contrast  to  the  Puritans,  every  one  of  whom 
was  a  restless  politician,  whose  religion  included  a 
theory  of  civil  government  which  he  felt  it  his  duty 
to  enforce." 

So  Charles  gave  his  blessing  with  the  kindliest 
good-will  to  these  innocent  non-combatants,  who, 
their  hearts  full  of  hope,  their  hands  unstained  by 
blood,  set  sail  with  the  outgoing  tide  for  the  far- 
away shores  of  America.  It  would  have  been  more 
picturesque  had  Penn  accompanied  them,  but  he 
remained  in  London,  busy  with  the  sale  of  land, 
and  with  schemes  for  the  advancement  of  the 
colony.  The  three  little  ships  carried  with  them  in 
his  place  three  commissioners,  a  plan  of  the  proposed 
city,  and  a  conciliatory  letter  to  the  Delaware  In- 
dians, who  had  always  claimed  these  heavily  wooded 
tracts  as  their  favourite  hunting-ground.  Friendly 
Indians  they  were  for  the  most  part,  who  had  been 


THE  FOUNDING   OF  THE  QUAKER    CITY          17 

conquered  years  before  and  reduced  to  subjection  by 
the  victorious  Five  Nations,  and  who  were,  moreover 
accustomed  to  the  sight  of  white  men  dwelling 
within  their  territory.  There  was  little  trouble  to 
be  apprehended  from  them,  unless  goaded  by  un- 
kindness  into  hostility,  and  the  Quakers  were  not 
settlers  likely  to  arouse  the  fierce  passion  of  resent- 
ment in  the  Red  Man's  bosom.  They  regarded  him, 
neither  as  an  unwarranted  interloper,  which  is  our 
modern  point  of  view,  nor  as  accursed  of  God,  and 
cut  off  from  all  mercy  in  Heaven  or  on  earth,  which 
was  the  gentle  conviction  of  the  Puritan.  They 
made  allowances  for  his  being  an  Indian,  since  it 
had  pleased  God  to  create  him  one  ;  and  they  con- 
ceived that  he  was  not  without  some  claim  to  the 
land  which  Providence  had  granted  him  for  his  own. 
These  extraordinary  sentiments  —  the  strangest  her- 
esy ever  yet  carried  from  the  Old  World  to  the 
New  —  bore  lasting  fruit  in  the  good-will  shown  to 
Pennsylvania's  colony  by  its  savage  neighbours.  The 
early  history  of  the  Quaker  City  is  almost  ignomini- 
ous in  its  peacefulness,  monotonous  in  its  unvarying, 
uninteresting  prosperity.  By  the  side  of  infant  Phil- 
adelphia, so  quiet  and  so  well  behaved,  the  story  of 
infant  New  Orleans  reads  like  some  long  fairy  tale, 
in  which  the  picturesque,  the  marvellous,  the  sinister, 
and  the  lawless,  contend  on  every  glowing  page  for 
mastery. 


18  PHILADELPHIA 

Yet  the  decorous  record  of  the  little  settlement  on 
the  "Delaware  is  not  without  its  sober  charm,  a  charm 
to  be  sought  for  in  minute  detail  and  simple  inci- 
dent. With  incredible  speed,  the  colonists,  who  had 
first  found  shelter  in  caves  along  the  river's  bank, 
built  themselves  log  cabins  and  frame  houses,  chilly, 
capacious,  strong.  The  emigration  increased  rapidly. 
Twenty-three  ships  sailed  from  England  to  Pennsyl- 
vania in  1682,  and  by  the  close  of  1683,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty-seven  houses  had  been  erected  in 
Philadelphia.  Already,  though  but  three  years  old, 
it  had  become  the  city  of  homes.  But  the  first 
child  of  English  parents  was  born  in  a  cave,  after- 
wards used  as  a  rude  tavern,  and  called  the  "Penny- 
pot."  To  this  child,  John  Key,  Penn  presented  a  lot 
of  ground,  and  he  lived  to  be  eighty-five  years  old, 
and  was  known  as  the  "first  born"  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  though  by  that  time  early  traditions  and 
landmarks  were  rapidly  disappearing  from  the  town. 
When  Penn  arrived  in  November,  1682,  he  found  his 
colony  so  well  advanced,  its  surroundings  so  tranquil 
and  beautiful,  that  in  his  enthusiasm  he  pronounced 
the  country  worthy  of  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  ;  a  land  overflowing  with  the  visible  mercies 
of  God.  "  Oh  !  how  sweet  is  the  quiet  of  these 
parts,  freed  from  the  anxious  and  troublesome  solici- 
tations, hurries,  and  perplexities  of  woeful  Europe," 
he  wrote  joyously,  and  no  doubt  sincerely,  being  as 


THE  FOUNDING   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 


19 


yet  new  to  the  situation,  and  unaware  of  the  persist- 
ence with  which  "  woeful  Europe  "  tugs  at  the 
heartstrings  of  an  exile.  The  "fair  mansion-house" 
of  Pennsbury  had  not  yet  been  begun,  but  he  built  the 
demure  little  Letitia  House  for  his  winter  quarters, 
promising  himself,  doubtless,  many  years  of  peaceful 


"THE  DEMURE  LITTLE  LETITIA  HOUSE" 

and  congenial  labour  in  the  city  which  owed  him 
her  existence.  His  letter  of  1683,  to  the  Free  Soci- 
ety of  Traders,  gives  unstinted  praise  to  the  new 
province  ;  its  game,  its  fruit,  its  abundant  crops,  its 
oysters  "six  inches  long,"  its  pure  and  wholesome 
water,  (alas  !  alas  !)  and  its  charming  climate,  which 
we  might  imagine  had  altered  strangely  since  those 
halcyon  days,  were  it  not  for  another  letter  —  a 


20  PHILADELPHIA 

private  missive  this  time  to  Lord  North  —  in  which 
Perm  ruefully  confesses  that  "  the  weather  often 
changeth  without  notice,  and  is  constant  almost  in 
its  inconstancy."  "  No  climate  at  all,"  as  M. 
Bourget  wittily  expresses  it,  — "  only  samples  of 
weather." 

The  meeting  of  the  first  Assembly,  which  adopted 
Penn's  code  with  many  modifications,  the  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  settle  the  boundary  line  between  Pennsyl- 
vania and  Maryland,  and  the  famous  treaty  with  the 
Indians  at  Shackamaxon  engrossed  the  governor's 
attention.  The  treaty  is  one  of  those  historic  facts 
or  fictions,  the  details  of  which  we  are  taught  to  believe 
as  children,  and  to  doubt  as  adults,  with  the  result  that 
we  are  credulous  or  sceptical  according  to  our  mental 
attitudes.  Those  for  whom  it  is  the  sole  incident 
that  emerges  from  the  mist  of  long-forgotten  lessons 
are  naturally  unwilling  to  relinquish  a  single  circum- 
stance, not  even  the  broad  blue  sash,  Penn's  only 
emblem  of  authority.  If  there  be  no  evidence  beyond 
tradition  for  the  support  of  the  truth,  there  is  no  shadow 
of  improbability,  and  there  are  no  conflicting  state- 
ments to  give  tradition  the  lie.  The  loss  of  the 
original  document  is  of  scant  significance,  for  little 
importance  was  attached  to  it  at  the  time,  and  many 
papers  shared  its  fate  in  those  early  careless  days. 
The  fact  that  the  speech  assigned  to  Penn  was  really 
uttered  by  him  twenty  years  later,  is  but  an  instance 


THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  QUAKER   ClTY          21 

of  the  way  in  which  history  is  made,  the  natural  and 
admirable  process  by  which  anything  that  will  harmo- 
nize is  woven  into  the  narrative.  Nothing  can  be 
clearer  than  the  story  as  it  has  come  down  to  us,  —  the 
story  of  a  great  treaty  made  and  kept.  The  Indians 
cherished  its  memory  for  generations ;  the  Quakers 
were  justly  proud  of  a  deed  that  did  them  infinite 
credit ;  and  the  English  have  always  vied  with  Ameri- 
cans in  honouring  a  compact  which,  as  Voltaire  lucidly 
remarked,  was  "the  only  treaty  between  savages  and 
Christians  that  had  not  been  ratified  by  an  oath,  and 
that  was  never  broken." 

When  the  English  army  occupied  Philadelphia  in 
1777,  a  guard  was  placed  before  the  "Treaty  Elm," 
to  preserve  it  from  the  evil  chances  of  war.  The  picture 
by  which  West  has  so  deeply  offended  antiquarians 
has  at  least  familiarized  many  of  us  with  that  famous 
tree,  and  with  all  that  happened  beneath  its  spreading 
branches.  Penn  was,  indeed,  at  the  time,  no  corpulent 
old  man  in  full-skirted  coat  and  broad-brimmed  hat; 
but  tall,  athletic,  well  formed,  and,  notwithstanding 
his  Quaker  creed,  extremely,  fastidious  about  dress, 
especially  about  his  curled  and  flowing  wigs; — "the 
handsomest,  best-looking,  and  liveliest  of  gentlemen," 
says  an  old  chronicler,  "  affable  and  friendly  with  the 
humblest." 

Friendly  with  the  Indians  he  certainly  was,  winning 
their  affection  by  his  kindness,  and  their  respect  by 


22  PHILADELPHIA 

his  activity  and  endurance.  The  undeviating  policy 
of  conciliation  which  he  pursued  for  years  ensured  the 
docility  of  the  savages,  and  the  consequent  safety  of 
an  unarmed  community,  which  went  about  its  daily 
toil  as  unmolested  as  though  it  lived  in  the  heart  of 
civilization.  There  have  not  been  lacking  virtuous 
voices  to  protest  against  Penn's  inadequate  payment 
for  land  of  which  the  Indians  never  realized  the  value ; 
but  as  so  few  colonists  were  in  the  habit  of  paying 
anything  at  all,  or  of  acknowledging  any  claim,  save 
their  own,  to  provinces  granted  them  by  the  crown, 
it  seems  hardly  worth  while  to  save  up  our  resentment 
for  the  one  man  who  gave  what  was  demanded. 

It  was  not  from  Indians  that  Penn  suffered  his 
keenest  disappointments,  but  from  those  whose  lasting 
gratitude  he  had  rashly  hoped  to  win.  Already  the 
bickerings  had  begun  which  were  destined  to  over- 
shadow his  life.  Already  he  found  it  a  difficult  matter 
to  please  his  colonists,  to  control  the  Assembly,  to  have 
his  own  way  about  anything.  "  Is  it  not  the  general 
history  of  colonies,"  says  that  garrulous  old  chronicler, 
John  Watson,  "to  whine  and  fret  like  wayward  chil- 
dren, to  give  immeasurable  trouble  and  expense  to 
rear  them  to  maturity v  and  then  to  reward  the  parental 
care  with  alienation?"  If  this  be  true,  Pennsylvania 
was  certainly  no  exception  to  the  rule.  Penn  loved 
the  province  he  had  founded,  the  goodly  city  he  had 
helped  to  build.  He  hoped  to  make  her  beautiful  as 


THE  FOUNDING   OF  THE  QUAKER   CITY 


23 


well  as  prosperous,  and  had  dreamed  of  a  noble  river  _ 
front  along  the  Delaware,  of  a  promenade  and  a  public 
park,  with  the  trees  of  the  forest  primeval  spreading 
their  mighty  branches  over  the  cooling  waves.  The 
steady  encroachment  of  warehouses  and  shipping 
yards  upon  this  river  front,  the  inevitable  triumph  of 


"OVER  THE  COOLING  WAVE" 

the  commercial  over  the  picturesque,  chagrined  him 
deeply.  But  before  ever  the  buildings  rose  frowning 
and  ugly  on  the  bank,  there  were  more  urgent  anxie- 
ties to  mar  his  peace  of  mind.  Among  them  was  the 
still  unsettled  boundary  line,  which  promised  endless 
trouble  in  the  future,  Lord  Baltimore  being  a  man 
loath  to  relinquish  his  territorial  rights,  and  not 


24  PHILADELPHIA 

easily  moved  by  arguments  or  solicitations.  It  seemed 
Penn's  wisest  course  to  return  to  England,  and  lay 
the  matter  once  more  before  the  Privy  Council. 
Other  questions  arose  which  required  his  presence  in 
London.  He  had  left  his  wife  and  family  in  the  Old 
World,  not  without  serious  misgivings  ;  for  Gulielma 
Maria,  pious  and  beautiful  though  she  was,  had  her 
share  of  gentle  feminine  weaknesses,  all  of  which  are 
hinted  at  very  plainly  in  the  long  letter  of  instruction 
which  Penn  wrote  for  her  guidance  in  his  absence. 
He  entreats  her,  for  example,  to  be  more  regular  at 
her  meals ;  to  have  her  dinner  served  promptly  at  the 
appointed  hour  ;  to  "  guard  against  encroaching  friend- 
ships," which  lead  to  lamentable  waste  of  time  ;  and, 
above  all,  to  forbear  grieving  herself  with  careless 
servants ;  —  excellent  but  futile  advice,  easier  at  any 
time  to  give  than  to  obey.  So  back  to  "woeful 
Europe,"  which  seemed  a  little  less  woful  after  two 
years'  absence,  back  to  household  cares  and  to  graver 
issues  went  Penn  in  1684.  He  intended  to  rejoin  the 
colony  within  a  twelvemonth.  He  remained  in  Eng- 
land nearly  fifteen  years. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   QUAKER   CITY'S   CHILDHOOD 

A  COMPACT  little  town  as  level  as  the  sands  of 
the  desert ;  narrow  streets  running  evenly  from 
east  to  west,  and  from  north  to  south,  intersecting  each 
other  with  monotonous  regularity  like  the  lines  which 
mark  out  the  squares  on  a  checkerboard  ;  houses  built 
of  wood  or  of  bright  red  brick,  as  much  alike  as  the 
sea-god's  daughters,  — "  as  the  faces  of  sisters  should 
be."  A  town  built  between  two  rivers  ;  the  broad  and 
beautiful  Delaware  rolling  on  one  side  to  the  sea,  and, 
on  the  other,  barely  two  miles  away,  the  placid  little 
Schuylkill,  unskirted  yet  by  human  habitation,  un- 
tainted by  mill,  or  mine,  or  factory,  winding,  a  sylvan 
stream,  through  woods  of  oak  and  chestnut.  There 
was  much  comfort  and  scant  luxury  within  the  red 
brick  houses.  Not  a  carpet  nor  a  rug  for  many  years 
upon  the  sanded  floors.  Heavy  English  furniture  in 
the  low-ceilinged  rooms,  pewter  dishes  on  the  shelves, 
huge  logs  burning  merrily  in  the  wide  fireplaces,  good 
food,  and  plenty  of  it,  in  the  larders.  For  to  the  game, 
and  fish,  and  six-inch-long  oysters,  the  colonists  had 
added  swiftly  the  Indian  delicacies,  —  corn,  and  hominy, 

25 


26 


PHILADELPHIA 


and  the  delicious  succotash.  Mighty  drinkers  they 
were,  too,  in  their  own  sober  fashion,  consuming  vast 
quantities  of  ale  and  spirits,  and  making  no  serious 
inroads  on  the  "  pure  and  wholesome  "  water ;  although 
we  are  gravely  assured  that  particular  pumps,  one  on 
Walnut  Street,  and  one  in  Norris  Alley,  were  held  in 
especial  favour,  as  having  the  best  water  in  the  town 
for  the  legitimate  purpose  of  boiling  greens.  The  first 
beer  was  made  from  molasses,  and  we  have  Penn's 
assurance  that  when  "well  boyled,  with  Sassafras  or 
Pine  infused  into  it,  this  is  a  very  tolerable  drink," 
—  which  we  should  -never  have  supposed.  Rum  punch 
was  also  in  liberal  demand ;  and,  after  a  few  years,  the 


THE  QUAKER   CITY1 8   CHILDHOOD  27 

thirsty  colonists  began  to  brew  real  ale,  and  drank  it 
out  of  deep  pewter  mugs,  such  as  still  adorn  the 
shelves  of  English  rural  inns. 

It  was  a  community  where  good  wages  were  paid  to 
all  who  toiled  honestly  with  their  hands,  but  where 
brain  workers  were  not  greatly  in  demand.  Farmers 
and  mechanics  were  made  welcome ;  "  but  of  lawyers 
and  physicians,"  writes  Gabriel  Thomas,  "  I  shall  say 
nothing,  because  the  Country  is  very  Peaceable  and 
Healthy.  Long  may  it  so  continue,  and  never  have 
occasion  for  the  Tongue  of  the  one,  nor  the  Pen  of  the 
other,  both  equally  destructive  to  men's  estates  and 
lives."  We  know,  alas  !  how  Bradford,  the  printer, 
fared  in  a  town  where  there  was  practically  nothing  to 
print,  yet  which  had  advanced  beyond  her  sister  cities 
in  New  York,  Maryland,  and  Virginia,  by  the  mere 
possession  of  a  press.  Bradford  came  to  Philadelphia 
in  1685,  struggled  for  eight  years  with  almanacs  and 
an  occasional  pamphlet ;  and  then  —  Satan  finding  mis- 
chief for  his  idle  hands  to  do  —  embroiled  himself  hope- 
lessly in  religious  and  political  dissensions,  which  made 
him  an  exile  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

The  wages  paid  to  women  in  the  colony  were  dis- 
proportionately high,  because  young  girls  were  sought 
so  eagerly  in  marriage  that  female  servants  were  always 
needed,  and  always  hard  to  keep.  Thomas  enthusiasti- 
cally describes  little  Philadelphia  —  then  in  her  seven- 
teenth year  —  as  a  sort  of  terrestrial  paradise,  and  not 


28  PHILADELPHIA 

altogether  unlike  the  happy  village  of  the  bucolic 
drama.  "  Here  are  no  beggars  to  be  seen,"  he  writes, 
"  nor  indeed  has  anyone  the  least  temptation  to  take  up 
that  scandalous,  lazy  life.  Jealousy  among  men  is  very 
rare,  nor  are  old  maids  to  be  met  with  ;  for  all  com- 
monly marry  before  they  are  twenty  years  of  age.  The 
Christian  children  born  here  are  generally  well  favoured 
and  beautiful  to  behold.  I  never  knew  any  with  the 
least  blemish."  One  is  irresistibly  reminded,  as  one 
reads,  of  Prester  John,  and  the  blameless  people  whom 
he  ruled.  "  No  vice  is  tolerated  in  our  land,  and,  with 
us,  no  one  lies." 

It  is  but  fair  to  record,  however,  that  the  praises  of 
the  local  historian  receive  earnest  confirmation  from  at 
least  one  stranger  whom  the  perils  of  the  sea  had  flung 
upon  our  hospitable  shores.  In  1710,  Richard  Castel- 
man,  having  suffered  shipwreck  on  a  voyage  from  Ber- 
muda, came  to  Philadelphia,  and  was  so  delighted  with 
all  he  saw  that  he  remained  for  many  months,  writing  a 
minute  account  of  his  adventures,  his  "  miraculous  es- 
cape," and  of  the  peaceful  haven  to  which  the  kindly 
fates  had  led  him.  Castleman's  eulogiums  are  as  loving 
and  as  lavish  as  those  of  Gabriel  Thomas.  He  does  not 
even  acknowledge  that  "  inconstancy "  of  the  climate 
which  Penn  lamented,  but  stoutly  affirms  the  sky  to  be 
"  rarely  overcast,"  and  the  air  "  so  healthy  that  there  is 
no  occasion  for  physicians,  the  people  finding  cures  for 
their  accidental  diseases  by  simples."  Even  the  horses 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S  CHILDHOOD  29 

are  stronger  and  less  liable  to  sickness  than  in  England. 
Game  of  every  kind  is  plentiful  throughout  the  prov- 
ince, and  he  particularly  admires  "  a  creature  called  a 
Possum,  that  has  a  false  belly  into  which  the  young 
retire  in  time  of  danger." 

As  for  the  town  itself,  it  is,  though  not  yet  thirty 
years  old,  "  a  noble,  large,  and  populous  city,"  having 
houses  "that  cost  six  thousand  pounds  the  building." 
Here  "  all  religions  are  tolerated,  which  is  one  means  to 
increase  the  riches  of  the  place  "  ;  here  "  a  journeyman 
taylor  has  twelve  shillings  a  week,  besides  his  board  "  ; 
and  here  "  even  the  meanest  single  women  marry  well, 
and,  being  above  want,  are  above  work."  "If  the  dis- 
tressed people  of  England  knew  the  comforts  of  this 
colony,  and  the  easy  means  there  is  of  a  livelihood,  they 
would  never  stay  where  they  are,  in  a  continual  scene 
of  poverty  and  misery." 

When  the  days  were  warm,  Mr.  Castelman  was  wont 
to  seek  recreation  in  walking  "with  some  of  the  Town" 
to  Faire  Mount,  "  a.  charming  spot,  shaded  with  trees, 
on  the  river  Schuylkill "  ;  and  he  can  find  no  words 
glowing  enough  in  which  to  describe  the  beautiful 
country  that  stretched  for  many  miles  along  the  river's 
bank.  Altogether,  he  is  plainly  of  the  opinion  that 
his  lines  are  cast  in  pleasant  places,  and  it  is  with 
keen  regret  that  he  meditates  a  departure  from  new- 
found, hospitable  friends.  "The  generosity  of  the 
Philadelphians  is  rooted  in  their  natures,"  he  writes 


30 


PHILADELPHIA 


warmly,  "  for  it  is  the  greatest  crime  among  them  not 
to  show  the  utmost  civility  to  strangers  ;  and  if  I  were 
obliged  to  live  out  of  my  native  country,  I  should  not 
long  be  puzzled  in  finding  a  place  of  retirement,  which 
should  be  Philadelphia.  There  the  oppressed  in  fort- 


,  <..".'-^          ^c»    .",3 

•*-*'^*fcfe3&'£ 


"  ALONG   THE   RIVER'S   BANK  " 

une  or  principles  may  find  a  happy  Asylum,  and  drop 
quietly  to  their  graves  without  fear  or  want." 

The  "  well-favoured  "  Christian  children  born  in  this 
peaceful  community  had  their  young  lives  saddened  by 
being  sent  as  regularly  and  pitilessly  to  school  as  if 
merry  England  had  been  their  home ;  for  the  Quaker 
colonists  were  equally  averse  to  extremes  of  ignorance 
or  of  erudition.  Before  Philadelphia  was  five  years  of 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S   CHILDHOOD  31 

age  she  had  her  first  institution  of  learning,  a  very 
small  and  humble  one,  kept  by  Enoch  Flower,  whose 
modest  charges  varied  with  the  amount  he  was  expected 
to  impart.  For  four  shillings  a  quarter,  the  child  was 
taught  to  read ;  for  six  shillings,  to  read  and  write ; 
for  eight  shillings,  to  read,  write,  and  cast  accounts. 
Beyond  these  standard  accomplishments,  Master  Flower 
wisely  declined  to  lead  his  little  flock.  In  1689  the 
Friends  established  their  grammar  school,  and  placed 
George  Keith,  a  Scotch  Quaker,  at  its  head.  His 
salary  was  a  good  one :  fifty  pounds  a  year,  with 
dwelling  and  schoolhouse  provided,  and  twice  that  sum 
for  two  years,  if  he  would  consent  to  teach  the  children 
of  the  poor  separately,  without  charge.  There  was  no 
royal  and  smooth  paved  road  to  learning  in  those  days. 
The  little  scholars  took  their  first  reluctant  steps  along 
the  dismal  pathway  of  the  New  England  Primer. 

"  In  Adam's  fall, 
We  sinned  all. 

"  Job  feels  the  rod, 
Yet  blesses  God. 

"  Xerxes  the  great  did  die, 
And  so  must  you  and  I." 

After  weary  weeks  spent  in  grappling  with  this  theo- 
logical alphabet,  —  during  which  they  freely  shared 
Job's  privilege,  —  the  reward  of  actually  learning  to 
read  was  the  cheerless  history  of  John  Rogers,  burned 


32  PHILADELPHIA 

at  the  stake  for  heresy,  while  the  pathetic  picture  of  his 
wife  with  "nine  small  children,  and  one  at  the  breast," 
added  unutterable  gloom  to  the  narrative. 

George  Keith,  waxing  fat  in  the  fulness  of  his  salary, 
proved  himself  a  troublesome  colonist.  Like  a  true 
Scottish  "  unco  gude,"  he  felt  the  piety  of  his  neighbours 
to  be  of  an  inconsistent  and  unsatisfactory  character  ; 
so  founded  his  own  little  sect  of  "  Christian  Quakers," 
thus  relegating  his  former  brethren  into  the  darkness 
of  heathenism,  an  innuendo  which  they  were  not  slow 
to  resent.  The  schoolmaster  was  accused  in  Meeting  of 
"  enmity,  wrath,  self-exaltation,  contention,  and  jan- 
gling,"—  a  long  indictment,  —  and  also  of  making  the 
Friends  whom  he  reviled  "  a  scorn  to  the  profane,  and 
the  song  of  the  drunkards,"  the  meaning  of  which 
words  they  probably  understood.  After  much  animated 
quarrelling  he  returned  to  England,  abandoned  the 
Quaker  creed,  took  orders  in  the  Anglican  church,  and 
became  Penn's  most  bitter  opponent,  arousing  by  every 
means  in  his  power  that  sharp  animosity  which  led  to 
the  Proprietor's  being  temporarily  deprived  of  his  prov- 
ince. In  return,  Keith  has  been  roundly  abused  by 
Voltaire,  who  condescended  to  pelt  his  insignificance 
into  notice.  "  The  wretch  was  doubtless  possessed  of 
the  devil,  for  he  dared  to  preach  intolerance,"  said  the 
great  Frenchman, — himself  the  most  genuinely  intol- 
erant of  mortals. 

After  the  departure  of  this  Scottish  firebrand  from 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S   CHILDHOOD 


33 


Philadelphia,  the  little  grammar  school  flourished 
bravely  under  the  care  of  less  pharisaical  masters, 
and  the  system  of  education  organized  by  the  Friends 
has  been  eminently  successful  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years.  Like  the  Jesuits, —  in  this  regard  if 
in  no  other, —  they  have  shown  exceptional  skill  in 
teaching  and  controlling  the  young. 


"THE  MEETING-HOUSE" 

Side  by  side  with  the  schoolhouse  arose  the  meeting- 
house, the  church,  and  the  prison,  amply  providing  for 
the  needs  of  all  classes  of  society.  For  twelve  years 
an  ordinary  frame  dwelling  was  the  only  jail  the  town 
possessed,  and  it  was  oftenest  empty.  Indeed,  the 
prison  at  Third  and  High  streets  was  never  finished 


34  PHILADELPHIA 

and  placed  at  the  disposal  of  criminals  until  1723  ; 
but  in  the  interval  they  found  both  public  and  private 
accommodation.  "  A  cage  seven  foot  high,  seven  foot 
long,  and  seven  foot  broad"  was  constructed  for 
the  evil-doer,  who  dwelt  temporarily  therein,  like  a 
monkey  at  the  Zoo;  being  taken  out  with  due  formality 
to  be  "  smartly  whipped," — perhaps  for  selling  drink 
to  Indians,  perhaps  for  watering  the  white  man's  rum, 
both  of  them  offences  of  which  the  law  took  especial 
cognizance.  Twenty  shillings  was  the  fine  imposed 
for  working  on  the  Sabbath  day,  ten  shillings  for  being 
drunk  on  the  Sabbath  day,  and  twelve  pence  for  smok- 
ing upon  the  streets  on  any  day  of  the  week.  In  1702 
George  Robinson,  a  butcher,  was  fined  for  "uttering 
two  very  bad  curses " ;  and,  for  presenting  a  paper 
which  was  deemed  disrespectful  to  the  Council,  An- 
thony Weston  was  whipped  in  the  market-place  three 
days,  receiving  but  ten  lashes  each  day,  thus  suffering 
as  much  ignominy  and  as  little  pain  as  could  be  easily 
held  together.  It  is  well  to  remember,  however,  that 
these  public  whippings  were  charged  for  at  the  exor- 
bitant rate  of  six  shillings  each,  and  that  the  offender 
was  compelled  to  pay  for  the  unwelcome  service  done 
him,  —  a  touch  of  ironical  thrift  which  fully  justifies 
Lamb's  admiration  for  the  latent  humour  of  Quakers. 
Could  Anthony  Weston  have  taken  his  thirty  lashes 
at  once,  he  would  have  been  far  easier  in  his  mind, 
and  full  twelve  shillings  richer. 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S  CHILDHOOD  35 

As  years  went  by,  the  criminal  code  became  more 
severe,  and  the  death  sentence,  which  Penn  had  allot- 
ted to  murderers  only,  was  inflicted  upon  counterfeiters 
and  highway  robbers.  Nor  were  the  colonists  dis- 
posed, like  their  successors  to-day,  to  wax  sentimental 
over  female  malefactors.  They  held  women  to  be  as 
accountable  as  men  before  the  law,  and  punished  their 
offences  with  impartial  alacrity.  In  1720  John  and 
Martha  Hunt  were  convicted  of  making  counterfeit 
dollars,  and  both  were  promptly  hanged,  to  the 
unqualified  satisfaction  of  honest  and  law-abiding 
citizens. 

If  real  crimes,  however,  were  visited  with  careful 
retribution,  imaginary  ones  created  but  little  excite- 
ment in  a  community  too  sane  for  fanaticism.  The 
Quaker  colonist,  indeed,  devoutly  believed  in  the 
possibility  of  witchcraft ;  he  enacted  laws  against 
witches ;  but  he  hanged  no  witch.  The  opportunity 
was  given  him  at  the  very  outset  of  his  career,  and  he 
passed  it  lightly  by.  In  1683  two  Swedish  women, 
Margaret  Mattson  and  Yeshro  Hendrickson,  were 
accused  of  sorcery,  Penn  presiding  as  governor  at  the 
trial.  The  prisoners  were  ready,  after  the  painful 
fashion  of  such  culprits,  to  admit  their  guilt ;  but  the 
unmoved  Friends  declined  to  credit  them  with  super- 
natural powers.  The  verdict  was  alike  in  both  cases ; 
vaguely  worded,  but  satisfactory,  and  a  miracle  of 
sturdy  common  sense.  "  Guilty  of  having  the  common 


36  PHILADELPHIA 

fame  of  a  witch,  but  not   guilty  in   the   manner   and 
form  as  she  stands  indicted." 

This  was  a  heavy  blow  to  would-be  warlocks,  who 
found  it  difficult  to  thrive  in  an  atmosphere  of  calm 
depreciation.  They  made  frantic  efforts  from  time 
to  time,  but  with  no  dramatic  success.  In  vain  a 
negro  arrogantly  announced  that  he  had  sold  himself 
to  Satan.  The  colonists  prayed  over  him,  and  strove 
with  reasonable  perseverance  to  banish  the  evil  spirit ; 
but  they  declined  to  grant  him  the  public  honour  of 
a  hanging.  In  vain  a  white  man.  affirmed  that  he 
was  to  be  carried,  body  and  soul,  to  hell,  at  six  P.M. 
An  idle  crowd,  foredoomed  to  disappointment,  assem- 
bled to  witness  his  departure ;  but  the  authorities 
took  no  notice  of  the  circumstance,  and  showed  a  most 
mortifying  indifference  as  to  whether  he  went  or 
stayed.  Even  the  phantom  coach,  which  the  super- 
stitious averred  was  driven  by  a  demon  at  midnight 
through  the  silent  Quaker  streets,  awoke  but  lanquid 
curiosity;  and  little  wonder,  when  we  consMer  how 
mild  was  the  guilt  of  its  ghostly  occupant.  "  He  was 
deemed,"  says  the  old  narrative,  "to  have  died  with 
unkind  feelings  towards  one  dependent  on  him."  If 
the  town  could  boast  no  villain  and  no  villany  more 
picturesquely  lurid  than  this,  it  had  scant  right  to  super- 
natural honours,  to  a  cavalcade  of  spectres  and  evil 
spirits  like  the  dark  procession  which  bore  with  dread- 
ful pomp  and  rejoicing  the  soul  of  the  terrible,  brave 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S   CHILDHOOD  37 

old  Laird  of  Lag  down  to  its  final  doom.  The  legends 
which  cling  so  naturally  and  sympathetically  to  the 
blood-stained  soil  of  Scotland  seem  trivial  and  pitifully 
incongruous  in  the  daylight  atmosphere  of  our  peaceful 
and  prosperous  colony. 

The  history  of  Philadelphia's  churches  is  much 
longer  and  more  disturbing  than  the  history  of  her 
crimes  and  prisons.  It  is  a  record  of  quarrelsome 
Christian  piety,  which  lacked  on  the  one  side  the 
power,  and  on  the  other  side  the  desire,  to  be  keenly 
and  consistently  intolerant.  The  Quaker  settlers  had, 
indeed,  hoped  to  establish  a  community  where  abso- 
lute freedom  of  conscience  should  silence  the  voice 
of  discord.  This  was  the  "Holy  Experiment"  on 
which  their  hearts  were  set,  and  in  pursuance  of  this 
amiable  design  they  forbore,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
meddle  with  any  man's  religion.  Emigrants  of  every 
persecuted  creed  flocked  hopefully  to  the  new  Ar- 
cadia. The  Mennonites  settled  in  Germantown,  and 
Pastorius  the  schoolmaster,  with  wise  eloquence  and 
gentle  ways,  held  them  aloof  from  worldlings.  The 
Dunkards  joined  them  after  a  few  years,  and  the 
pretty  straggling  village  with  its  substantial  homes, 
its  roomy  gardens,  its  one  long  street,  bordered  by 
blossoming  peach  trees,  possessed  from  the  very  be- 
ginning a  charm  which  it  has  never  wholly  lost. 
The  Moravians  who  founded  Bethlehem  made  it  the 
garden  spot  of  Pennsylvania,  and  kept  the  best  inns 


38  PHILADELPHIA 

—  a  proud  distinction  —  in  the  province.  Even  the 
devout  and  mystic  hermits,  known  as  the  "Society 
of  the  Woman  of  the  Wilderness,"  came  gladly  over 
from  Germany  —  which  did  not  at  all  want  them  — 
and  settled  in  the  beautiful  glades  of  the  Wissa- 
hickon,  where  they  awaited  the  coming  of  the  Mil- 
lennium, and,  in  the  interval,  dabbled  unmolested  in 
astrology,  fortune-telling,  and  the  mildest  of  mild 
magic.  The  Welsh  wisely  chose  the  Schuylkill's 
lovely  banks,  and  built  the  little  church  of  St.  David, 
at  Radnor,  »  two  hundred  years  ago. 


ST.   DAVID  S   AT   RADNOR 

"  Dim  and  small 

Is  the  space  that  serves  for  the  Shepherd's  fold ; 
The  narrow  aisle,  the  bare  white  wall, 
The  pews  and  the  pulpit  quaint  and  tall 
Whisper  and  say  :  '  Alas  !  we  are  old.'  "  * 

*  "  Old  St.  David's."     Longfellow. 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S  CHILDHOOD  39 

The  Roman  Catholics,  who  we're  well  outside  the 
pale  of  Christian  clemency  at  home,  stole  over  the 
sea  quietly,  and  in  small  numbers,  to  discover  whether 
or  not  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love  held  any  charity 
for  them.  Penn's  tolerance  extended  even  to  the 
Papacy.  He  loved  and  served  a  Catholic  king  loy- 
ally for  years,  and  he  was  willing  enough  that  Cath- 
olics should  practise  their  own  rites,  provided  they 
did  so  secretly,  and  in  a  manner  that  would  give  no 
scandal,  and  create  no  disturbance.  More  than  this 
he  had  not  the  power  to  grant,  for  any  open  conces- 
sions were  met  by  fierce  hostility,  both  at  home, 
where  the  Anglican  party  protested  with  vehemence 
against  such  dangerous  lenity,  and  in  England,  where 
the  old  maxim,  "  Avoid  Papishers,  and  learn  to 
knit,"  was  still  held  to  embody  sound  morality  and 
wisdom.  There  is  something  truly  pathetic  in  the 
anxious  letter  which  Penn  writes  from  London  to 
James  Logan  on  the  subject  in  1708.  Angry  voices 
are  at  work  maligning  the  colony,  and  seeking  to 
bring  it  into  disfavour.  "With  these  is  a  complaint 
against  your  government,  that  you  suffer  public  Mass 
in  a  scandalous  manner.  Pray  send  the  matter  of 
fact,  for  ill-use  is  made  of  it  against  us  here." 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  for  many  years  be- 
fore the  building  of  St.  Joseph's  Church  in  Willing's 
Alley,  1733,  —  a  church  as  carefully  hidden  away  as 
a  martyr's  tomb  in  the  Catacombs  —  the  Roman 


40  PHILADELPHIA 

Catholics  worshipped  in  small  chapels  which  lay  often 
beyond  the  town  limits,  and  had  the  outward  appear- 
ance of  shops  and  dwelling-houses.  The  open  appre- 
hension with  which  they  were  regarded  by  all  except 
the  Quakers  was  destined  later  to  assume  odious  and 
terrible  proportions ;  and  among  those  who  helped  to 
fan  the  flame  of  mad  intolerance  was  the  eloquent 
and  hostile  Whitefield,  who  preached  out  of  doors  to 
vast  and  eager  crowds,  —  fifteen  hundred  people  as- 
sembling at  a  time  to  hear  him.  He  it  was  who 
succeeded  in  closing  for  a  while  ball-room  and  con- 
cert hall,  and  who  deprived  the  good  people  of  Phil- 
adelphia, not  only  of  all  amusements,  but  of  all  weak 
desire  to  be  amused.  And  he  it  was  who  broadened 
and  deepened  the  breach  between  Protestantism  and 
Catholicity  in  the  peaceful  Quaker  town.  "  He 
strikes  much  at  priestcraft,  and  speaks  very  satiri- 
cally of  Papists,"  writes  Mr.  James  Pemberton  in 
1739 ;  adding,  with  the  exquisite  serenity  of  the 
Friend  and  non-combatant:  "  His  intentions  are  good, 
but  he  has  not  yet  arrived  at  such  perfection  as  to 
see  so  far  as  he  yet  may." 

An  eloquent  proof  of  the  ill-will  aroused  in  Eng- 
land by  the  repeated  protests  of  the  Christ  Church 
party  against  the  tolerance  of  the  proprietary  gov- 
ernment may  be  found  in  a  letter  printed  in  the 
"London  Magazine,"  1737,  which  charges  the  growth 
of  Romanism  in  the  province  to  the  weakness  and  in- 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S  CUILD.HOOD  41 

difference  of  the  Quakers,  and  which  vehemently 
demands  reform.  The  letter  is  brimful  of  religious 
wrath,  and  gives  us  a  very  accurate  idea  of  how 
gossip  travelled  in  those  tardy  days. 

"As  I  join  with  you  about  the  Quakers,"  writes 
this  devout  correspondent,  "  I  shall  give  you  a 
small  specimen  of  a  notable  step  taken  towards  the 
Propagation  of  Popery  abroad ;  and  as  I  have  it 
from  a  gentleman  who  has  lived  for  many  years  in 
Pennsylvania,  I  confide  in  the  truth  of  it ;  let  the 
Quakers  deny  it  if  they  can.  In  the  Town  of  Phil- 
adelphia, in  that  Colony,  is  a  Publick  Popish  Chapel, 
where  that  Religion  has  free  and  open  exercise  ;  and 
in  it  all  the  superstitious  Rites  of  that  Church  are 
as  avowedly  performed  as  those  of  the  Church  of 
England  are  in  the  Royal  Chapel  at  St.  James. 
And  this  Chapel  is  open,  not  only  upon  Fasts  and 
Festivals,  but  it  is  so  all  day,  and  every  day  in  the 
week,  and  exceedingly  frequented  at  all  Hours, 
either  for  publick  or  private  devotion.  .  .  .  That 
these  are  Truths,  (whatever  use  you  are  pleased  to 
make  of  them)  you  may  at  any  time  be  satisfied  by 
any  Trader  or  Gentleman  who  has  been  there  within 
a  few  years,  (except  he  be  a  Quaker)  at  the  Caro- 
lina and  Pennsylvania  Coffee-House,  near  the  Royal 
Exchange." 

Little  did  it  profit  the  Friends  to  be  so  peacefully  in- 
clined towards  every  Christian  creed,  when  their  neigh- 


42  PHILADELPHIA 

hours  repudiated  with  scorn  this  policy  of  concession. 
The  Rev.  Colin  Campbell,  secretary  of  the  "  London 
Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign 
Parts,"  complains  bitterly  in  one  of  his  reports  that 
Quakerism  in  Pennsylvania  is  but  a  "  nursery  of  Jes- 
uits "  ;  and  the  Rev.  John  Talbot,  who  held  for  years 
the  same  pious  post,  accuses  Penn  openly  of  being  "  a 
greater  Antichrist  than  Julian  the  Apostate,  inasmuch 
as  instead  of  striving  to  convert  the  Indians  to  the 
faith,  he  labours  to  make  Christians  heathens,  and 
proclaims  liberty  and  privileges  to  all  that  believe  in  one 
God." 

Among  the  hosts  of  emigrants  who  flocked  from  the 
Old  World  to  try  their  fortunes  in  the  New,  the  Scotch- 
Irish  Presbyterians  had  least  patience  with  the  gentle 
tolerance  of  the  Quakers  whom  they  regarded  with  un- 
concealed aversion  and  contempt.  Men  of  brawn  and 
muscle  were  these  Scotch-Irish  colonists,  strong  of  pur- 
pose, steadfast  in  action,  brave,  thrifty,  and  intelligent ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  quarrelsome,  arrogant,  and  ex- 
ceedingly hostile  to  the  Indians,  whom  they  promptly 
antagonized  by  rough  treatment,  and  to  whom  they 
showed  scant  equity,  and  scantier  compassion.  It  be- 
came, in  time,  a  difficult  matter  to  keep  the  peace  with 
savages,  perpetually  angered  by  encroachments  and 
high-handed  injustice. 

The  two  most  interesting  places  of  worship  now 
standing  in  Philadelphia  are  Christ  Church  and  Gloria 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S  CHILDHOOD 


43 


44 


PHILADELPHIA 


Dei,  —  the  first  because  of  the  important  part  it  has 
played  in  the  history  of  the  colony,  and  the  second 
because  of  its  old  age  and  curious  associations.  Five 
years  before  Penn  sent  his  first  ships  over  the  sea,  the 
pious  Swedes  had  established  a  congregation,  and  met 
for  service  in  a  rude  blockhouse,  built  of  logs,  and 
pierced  with  narrow  loopholes, 
through  which  attacking  Indians 
might  be  spied  and  shot.  On 
the  site  of  this  primitive  chapel 
they  built  in  1700  a  brick  church, 
costing  twenty  thousand  Swed- 
ish dollars,  which,  at  the  time, 
was  deemed  "  a  great  edifice,  and 
finest  in  the  town."  Poor  and 
few  as  were  these  simple  wor- 
shippers, they  gave  fifteen  thou- 
sand dollars  before  the  first  stone 
was  laid  in  place ;  and,  with  that 
laudable  shrinking  from  debt 
which  has  ceased  to  harass  the  modern  church  builder, 
they  left  the  belfry  unfinished,  uin  order  to  see 
whether  God  will  bless  us  so  far  that  we  may  have  a 
bell,  and  in  what  manner  we  can  procure  it."  The 
antique  marble  font  of  Gloria  Dei  was  once  the  sole 
adornment  of  the  blockhouse  chapel,  and  in  the 
graveyard  which  surrounds  its  venerable  walls  are 
huddled  close  together  mouldy  and  crumbling  toinb- 


"THE  ANTIQUE  FONT" 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S  CHILDHOOD  45 

stones,  from  many  of  which  the  wind  and  weather  have 
worn  away  all  records  of  the  forgotten  dead.  We  read 
on  one  the  name  of  a  little  child  who  died  in  1708, 
nearly  two  centuries  ago,  when  Anne  ruled  over  Eng- 
land, and  Marlborough  carried  the  might  of  English 
arms  past  the  Flemish  frontier  into  France. 

A  keener  and  more  combative  interest  attaches  itself 
to  Christ  Church,  which  was  for  many  years  the  sole 
rallying  point  of  the  Anglican  party,  a  church  militant 
in  a  peaceful  community,  and  a  standing  peril  to  the 
dominant  Quaker  power.  Its  congregation,  small  in 
numbers,  was  strong  in  intelligence,  in  sustained  hos- 
tility, and  in  the  support  of  the  English  government. 
It  was  natural  that  such  men  should  find  much  to  anger 
them  in  the  new  province.  They  had  expected  the 
Quakers  to  claim  complete  tolerance  for  their  own  wor- 
ship, and  they  were  prepared  to  concede  as  much  with 
a  good  grace ;  but  they  had  never  anticipated  this 
strange,  serene,  perverse  colony,  where  all  creeds  were 
on  an  absurdly  equal  footing,  and  where  the  time-hon- 
oured privilege  of  snubbing  dissenters  and  persecuting 
Papists  was  rigorously  denied  them.  English  clergy- 
men, keenly  alive  to  their  distinction  in  representing 
the  great  National  Establishment,  were  little  disposed 
to  receive  poor  Francis  Pastorius,  or  Count  Zinzendorf, 
the  Moravian  bishop,  or  even  the  Rev.  Henry  Mel- 
chior  Muhlenberg,  pastor  of  the  German  Lutherans,  as 
brothers  in  Christ.  From  the  very  beginning  they  and 


46  PHILADELPHIA 

their  parishioners  held  themselves  stanchly  aloof,  a 
small,  compact,  able,  antagonistic  body  of  men  ;  and,  as 
a  first  step  towards  concentration  and  influence,  they 
built  a  church  which,  for  the  time  and  place,  must 
always  be  regarded  as  a  marvel  of  extravagance  and 
beauty. 

Now  church  building  was  no  easy  task  in  colonial 
days,  when  fortunes  were  few,  and  men  were  reluctant 
to  part  with  hard-earned  gains.  The  present  edifice, 
old  though  it  be,  —  as  we  count  age  in  the  New  "World, 
—  replaced  a  still  more  ancient  structure  which  for 
thirty-five  years  harboured  the  little  congregation. 
Perhaps  the  second  church  would  never  have  seen  com- 
pletion, had  it  not  been  for  the  ever  popular  device  of 
lottery  tickets,  by  help  of  which  our  unscrupulous  an- 
cestors reared  most  of  their  important  public  buildings. 
Two  lotteries  were  projected  by  the  vestry  of  Christ 
Church,  the  tickets  for  each  selling  at  four  dollars 
apiece.  One  of  them,  known  as  the  "  Philadelphia 
Steeple  Lottery,"  was  drawn  as  late  as  March,  1753, 
and  paid  for  the  steeple,  nearly  twenty  years  after  the 
body  of  the  church  was  built.  Within  its  walls  gener- 
ations of  Philadelphians  knelt  to  pray  ;  and  from  its 
vestry  and  congregation  issued  those  endless  petitions 
to  the  Privy  Council  which  kept  the  colony  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  agitation  and  alarm.  Four  times  in  sev- 
enty years  the  crown  was  urged  to  compel  the  Quaker 
Assembly  to  place  the  province  in  a  state  of  defence 


THE  QUAKER  CITY'S  CHILDHOOD 


CHRIST  CHURCH 


48  PHILADELPHIA 

against  pirates  and  Indians,  —  a  reasonable  request ; 
and  four  times  in  seventy  years  it  was  urged  to  force 
upon  the  Quaker  magistrates  such  oaths  of  office  as 
were  customary  and  obligatory  in  England,  —  an  utterly 
unreasonable  request,  having  for  its  aim  and  object 
nothing  less  than  the  exclusion  of  Friends  from  the 
Assembly,  and  from  all  positions  of  trust  in  a  colony 
which  owed  to  them  its  existence,  its  prosperity  and 
peace.  The  Anglicans  in  the  heat  of  their  resentment 
did  not  hesitate  to  petition  the  King  to  dispossess  the 
Proprietor,  to  dissolve  the  existing  government,  and  to 
rule  Pennsylvania  as  a  royal  province.  In  fact,  they 
were  as  willing  at  one  time  to  relinquish  their  charter, 
and  with  it  their  colonial  rights,  as  they  were  deter- 
mined a  few  years  later  to  protect  and  cherish  both. 
The  ardent  churchman  felt  no  sacrifice  too  great  for 
the  coveted  privilege  of  correcting  his  neighbour's  mis- 
demeanours. 

An  occasional  success  crowned  these  untiring  efforts. 
After  the  accession  of  William  and  Mary,  and  the 
passing  of  what,  by  an  exquisite  stroke  of  irony,  was 
called  the  Toleration  Act,  the  vestry  of  Christ  Church 
petitioned  the  Privy  Council,  through  Colonel  Quarry, 
to  impose  the  "  Test "  upon  all  who  wished  to  hold 
office,  or  worship  publicly  in  Pennsylvania.  The  Coun- 
cil yielded  to  this  demand,  and  a  congregation  of 
five  hundred  souls  succeeded  for  a  time  in  saddling 
the  whole  province  with  one  of  those  petty  exactions, 


THE   QUAKER   CITY'S   CHILDHOOD  49 

.harmless  enough  in  itself,  —  as  the  only  class  it  really 
injured  were  the  Roman  Catholics,  and  they  were  too 
few  for  consideration,  —  but  opposed  to  the  broad- 
minded,  tolerant  spirit  of  the  colony,  and  sufficiently 
annoying  to  keep  a  peace-loving  population  in  a  state 
of  ill-humour  and  disquiet. 

It  must  be  frankly  admitted,  however,  that  this 
combative  little  church  held  within  itself  a  large  pro- 
portion of  Philadelphia's  ability,  energy,  and  learning. 
As  time  went  on,  both  the  proprietors  and  governors 
of  Pennsylvania  added  the  weight  of  their  influence 
to  the  Anglican  party,  in  a  ceaseless  conflict  with  the 
Quaker  Assembly,  which  held  its  own  for  nearly  a 
hundred  years  by  the  simple  and  time-honoured  device, 
dear  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  heart,  of  granting  or  with- 
holding supplies.  Nothing  could  wrench  from  it  the 
power  of  the  purse,  and  nothing  could  long  survive 
the  closing  of  the  purse-strings.  Even  the  governors 
who  came  over  from  England  with  sovereignty  in  their 
hearts,  and  sealed  letters  of  instruction  in  their  pockets, 
found  it  more  or  less  difficult  to  maintain  the  dignity 
of  their  position  when  the  Assembly  paid  them  no 
salaries;  and,  after  a  year  or  two  of  high-handed 
autocracy,  they  were  glad  to  temporize  with  the  im- 
perturbable Friends  for  the  sake  of  a  necessary  income. 

No  such  humiliation  as  this  befell  the  Christ  Church 
rectors.  Their  stout-hearted  congregations  supported 
them  liberally,  and  found  money  to  spare  for  Intel- 


50  PHILADELPHIA 

lectual,  as  well  as  for  spiritual  and  political  requisitions. 
When  Franklin  conceived  his  plan  for  organizing 
the  "  College  and  Academy  of  Philadelphia,"  he  found 
the  assistance  he  needed  in  the  Anglican  party ;  four- 
fifths  of  the  college  trustees  were  church  members ; 
and  the  Rev.  William  Smith  —  one  of  the  most  able, 
irascible,  and  contentious  men  in  the  community,  with 
whom  Franklin  was  destined  to  have  many  a  quarrel 
—  was  elected  the  first  head-master.  When  the  hostile 
French  and  Indians  threatened  the  safety  of  the 
province,  it  was  Christ  Church  again  which  main- 
tained the  duty  of  a  defensive — which  rapidly  be- 
came an  offensive  —  warfare ;  and  Dr.  Smith  preached 
from  its  pulpit  eight  rousing  military  sermons,  well 
calculated  to  increase  the  general  discontent  at  the 
moderate  measures  of  the  Assembly.  As  usual,  too, 
the  Christ  Church  vestry,  aided  and  abetted  by  the 
vestry  of  St.  Peter's,  which  by  this  time  had  taken  up 
its  share  of  the  dispute,  petitioned  the  crown  to  exclude 
all  non-resident  Quakers  from  the  legislative  body,  —  a 
petition  which  was  wisely  ignored. 

Finally,  when  the  coming  Revolution  cast  its  signifi- 
cant shadow  on  the  colony,  the  Anglicans,  while  always 
hoping  for  peace,  remonstrated  clearly  against  the  in- 
justice of  the  Stamp  Act,  and  the  impolicy  of  con- 
cessions to  England.  If  they  paused  on  the  brink  of 
open  rebellion,  it  was  through  conservatism  and  not 
cowardice*  Three  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration 


THE  QUAKER   CITY'S   CHILDHOOD 


51 


of  Independence,  —  Franklin,  Robert  Morris,  and  Hop- 
kinson,  —  were  Christ  Church  pew-holders ;  and  it  was 
immediately  determined  to  drop  from  the  service 
the  long  familiar  prayer  for  the  King  and  the  Royal 
Family.  With  the  departure  of  that  prayer,  the  politi- 
cal importance  of  the  church  ceased  forever.  Severed 
from  the  great  English  Establishment,  it  stood  politi- 
cally on  a  par  with  every  sectarian  chapel  in  the  land. 
The  old  order  had  passed  away,  and  the  new  order 
concerned  itself  but  little  with  doctrines  and  dogmas. 
No  more  Tests  !  No  more  petitions  to  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil !  Only  an  intellectual  supremacy  remained,  and 
that  was  soon  to  be  disputed  by  rival  creeds.  The 
clergy,  the  vestry,  the  congregation  of  Christ  Church 
recognized  clearly  what  the  Revolution  was  to  cost 
them.  They  did  not  long  hesitate  to  sacrifice  their 
own  interests  to  the  wider,  greater,  nobler  needs  of  a 
country  which  demanded  to  be  free. 


GLORIA  DEI 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  LAST  YEAES  OF  WILLIAM  PENN 

TN  1699  Penn  returned  to  Philadelphia,  and  was 
welcomed  with  enthusiasm  by  the  city,  now  nine- 
teen years  old,  and  rapidly  outgrowing  her  pretty 
primitive  simplicity.  Much  had  happened  to  her 
Quaker  Founder  in  the  last  fifteen  years,  much  that 
has  no  place  in  this  New  World  chronicle,  though  it 
may  be  read  with  interest  by  those  who  love  to  follow 
a  brave  man  through  the  intricacies  and  fatal  fortunes 
of  life.  The  accession  of  James  II.  placed  Penn  in  a 
position  of  trust  and  influence  at  court,  for  the  King 
had  always  regarded  him  and  his  sober  followers  with 
favour  ;  and  one  of  the  first  acts  of  the  new  reign  was 
the  remission  of  the  penalties  imposed  upon  all  who 
had  refused  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  by  which 
royal  clemency  more  than  twelve  hundred  Quakers 
were  immediately  released  from  prison.  The  faithful 
service  rendered  by  Penn  to  the  monarch  who  had 
befriended  him  from  boyhood  has  been  made  the 
subject  of  much  invidious  and  foolish  criticism.  Ma- 
caulay,  whose  attitude  towards  any  adherent  of  the 
Stuarts  resembles  Voltaire's  attitude  towards  Habak- 

52 


THE  LAST   YEARS   OF  WILLIAM  PENN  53 

kuk,  has  not  hesitated  to  accuse  the  courtly  Quaker 
of  more  than  one  harsh  deed ;  and  though  none  of 
these  accusations  rest  upon  convincing  authority,  and 
most  of  them  rest  upon  no  authority  whatever,  there 
lingers  in  many  minds  a  vague  impression  that  Penn 
was  at  heart  a  time-server  and  a  worldling.  Even 
Mrs.  Oliphant  wonders  with  pious  scorn,  how  a  man 
who  professed  sanctity  could  obey  a  master  so  palpably 
imperfect  as  James,  as  though  it  were  possible,  under 
any  form  of  government,  to  make  character  the  condi- 
tion of  our  obedience  and  our  service  to  those  who 
rule  the  land. 

More  dispassionate  minds  will  find  in  the  strange  in- 
congruous friendship  something  equally  creditable  to 
king  and  subject.  James  held  this  gentle  yet  outspoken 
follower  at  his  true  worth,  and  many  gracious  deeds 
were  the  result  of  his  influence  and  intercession. 
Penn's  loyal  heart  found  little  to  forgive.  The  King's 
Catholicity  troubled  him  not  at  all,  for  in  his  serene 
breadth  of  mind  he  saw  no  reason  why  even  a  monarch 
should  not  cherish  his  own  faith,  an  idea  which  had  not 
then  dawned  upon  the  civilized  world,  and  which  has 
made  but  little  headway  in  the  intervening  years.  He 
believed  James  to  be  sincere  —  albeit  sincerity  was  not 
a  Stuart  failing  —  and  he  had  a  grateful  affection  for 
the  morose  man  who  won  so  little  love.  The  revolu- 
tion of  1689  brought  him  serious  disaster,  and  was  full 
of  evil  omens  for  the  Quakers  who  clung  to  him  as 


54  PHILADELPHIA 

their  leader  and  support.  He  found  himself  an  object 
of  deep  suspicion  at  court,  was  accused  before  the 
Privy  Council  of  treasonable  correspondence  with  the 
exiled  King,  and  was  promptly  deprived  of  his  pro- 
prietary rights.  Disgraced,  poor,  well-nigh  friendless, 
separated  from  his  wife,  who  died  before  his  restoration 
to  favour,  he  bore  this  sharp  reversal  of  fortune  with 
unalterable  patience  and  composure.  It  was  not  until 
England  had  grown  calm  again,  and  had  reconciled 
herself  sagaciously,  though  with  no  lively  satisfaction, 
to  the  great  and  wise  and  disagreeable  prince  whom 
she  had  invited  to  her  throne,  that  Penn  was  able  to 
prove  his  absolute  innocence.  He  had  loved  and  served 
James.  He  neither  loved  nor  wished  to  serve  William. 
But  his  creed  forced  him  to  play  a  passive  part  in  these 
strange  shifting  scenes  which  changed  the  destinies  of 
nations,  and  made  even  his  own  little  life  the  sport 
and  plaything  of  conflicting  fates. 

When,  after  years  of  trouble  and  disrepute,  the  sun 
of  royal  favour  shone  faintly  upon  him  once  again,  and 
the  government  of  Pennsylvania  was  restored  to  his 
hands,  he  resolved  to  return  to  the  province,  which  had 
been  but  little  disturbed  by  the  mighty  changes  at 
home.  The  flight  of  James  and  the  accession  of 
William  had,  in  fact,  made  no  particular  impression 
upon  the  colonists,  who  paid  scant  heed  to  the  start- 
ling news,  but  waited  without  impatience  for  further 
developments.  James,  they  considered,  might  come 


THE  LAST   YEARS   OF  WILLIAM  PENN  55 

back,  and  the  Prince  of  Orange  might  fly  in  his  turn. 
Neither  possibility  interested  them  very  profoundly. 
Those  were  happy  days,  when  the  serenity  of  one  hemi- 
sphere was  not  at  the  mercy  of  daily  despatches  from 
the  other.  Nine  months  passed  before  the  new  reign 
seemed  so  reasonably  secure,  that,  in  tardy  little  Phila- 
delphia, William  and  Mary  were  proclaimed  King  and 
Queen  of  England. 

In  matters  nearer  home,  however,  the  colony  was  as 
actively  contentious  as  its  neighbours,  and  even  across 
the  ocean  there  had  reached  Penn's  ears  the  echoes  of 
constant  strife.  "  For  the  love  of  God,  of  me,  and  of 
the  poor  country,"  we  find  him  writing  to  Lloyd,  "be 
not  so  governmentish,  so  noisy  and  open  in  your  dissat- 
isfaction." He  had  failed  to  realize,  amid  the  cares  and 
dangers  that  beset  his  path  in  England,  how  in  far-away 
Pennsylvania  there  was  growing  with  every  year  a 
spirit  of  strong  and  bitter  opposition  to  his  proprietary 
powers.  He  thought  that  all  would  be  well  when  he 
was  with  his  own  people  once  again ;  but  scarcely  had 
the  words  of  welcome  which  greeted  his  return  to 
Philadelphia  died  away,  when  the  struggle  began  which 
in  two  years  left  little  of  his  cherished  laws,  or  of  his 
old  authority.  The  Assembly  was  ready  enough  to 
assist  him  in  the  suppression  of  smuggling  and  piracy, 
which  lawless  but  profitable  professions  had  grown  to 
scandalous  magnitude.  On  other  points  they  met  his 
wishes  with  steady  resistance,  and  the  Christ  Church 


56 


PHILADELPHIA 


party,  under  the  leadership  of  Robert  Quarry,  Judge  of 
the  Admiralty,  grew  more  hostile  every  month.  Penn 
took  up  his  quarters  for  the  winter  in  the  Slate  Roof 
House ;  but  at  the  earliest  approach  of  spring  he  went 
gladly  to  Pennsbury,  which  had  been  furnished  with  a 
degree  of  elegance  hitherto  unknown  to  the  colony. 


•w 


> 


"THE  SLATE  ROOF  HOUSE" 

Turkish  tapestry  and  satin  hangings  covered  the  bare 
white  walls,  the  first  carpet  carried  over  the  ocean 
adorned  the  drawing-room  floor,  silver  and  glass 
sparkled  on  the  massive  sideboard.  Outside  there  were 
lawns  and  terraces,  made  with  infinite  pains,  to  give 
the  house  some  sweet  resemblance  to  an  English 
country  home,  and  endear  it  in  the  sight  of  wife  and 
child;  for  Penn  had  married  a  second  time,  and  his 


THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  WILLIAM  PENN  57 

family  accompanied  him  now  to  the  strange  New 
World,  and  liked  it  very  little  when  they  got  there. 

The  successor  of  poor  Gulielma  Maria,  who  had  es- 
caped forever  from  careless  servants  and  encroaching 
friendships,  was  a  "  devout  and  comely  maiden,"  Han- 
nah Callowhill,  the  daughter  of  a  Bristol  merchant. 
Her  letters,  which  have  been  ardently  recommended  as 
profitable  reading  for  the  young,  show  her  to  have  been 
a  woman  of  force  and  character,  well  fitted  for  the 
serious  cares  of  life,  and  for  the  important  part  she  was 
destined  to  play  in  the  history  of  the  province.  She 
had  three  sons,  one  of  whom,  John  Penn,  was  born  in 
Philadelphia,  and  was  commonly  called  "  the  American," 
though  he  did  as  little  as  possible  to  merit  the  title, 
or  to  make  it  an  honourable  distinction.  UA  lovely 
babe,"  writes  Isaac  Norris,  with  breathless  enthusiasm, 
in  1701,  "and  has  much  of  his  father's  grace  and  air, 
and  hope  he  will  not  want  a  good  portion  of  his 
mother's  sweetness,  who  is  a  woman  extremely  well- 
beloved  here,  exemplary  in  her  station,  and  of  an  excel- 
lent spirit,  which  adds  lustre  to  her  character,  and  has 
a  great  place  in  the  hearts  of  good  people." 

Penn's  only  daughter,  Letitia,  and  his  scapegrace  son, 
William,  the  children  of  his  first  wife,  had  accompanied 
him  to  the  colony,  and  Letitia's  discontent  and  home- 
sickness fully  equalled  her  stepmother's.  The  "fair 
mansion  house  "  seemed  but  a  desolate  dwelling-place 
to  these  sedate  Englishwomen,  who  never  learned  to 


58 


PHILADELPHIA 


love  such  unaccustomed  freedom,  and  never  ceased  to 
fear  the  silent  forest  that  surrounded  them,  nor  the 
"insolent  bears  and  painted  savages"  that  roamed- — 
most  uncongenial  neighbours  — .through  its  sombre 

depths.  Yet  Penn  maintained 
the  dignity  of  his  position  in 
a  manner  that  might  well 
have  satisfied,  and  even  daz- 
zled, the  Bristol  merchant's 
daughter.  Four  horses  drew 
his  state  coach  bumping  and 
jolting  over  the  rough, 
ill-made  road  from  Penns- 
bury  to  Philadelphia ; 
eight  oarsmen  rowed  his 
barge  when  he  took  the 
smoother  waterway.  The 
colonists  were  impressed, 
amused,  or  exasperated, 
according  to  their  dispo- 
sitions, by  all  this  for- 
mality and  display;  but 
even  those  who  least  loved  the  Proprietor  were  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  his  was  a  nature  broad  enough  to 
understand  the  needs  of  a  community,  and  generous 
enough  to  begrudge  neither  labour  nor  wealth  when 
the  happiness  of  the  people  was  at  stake.  Penn,  like 
Washington,  was  a  slaveholder,  and,  like  Washington, 


PENN  S    DESK 


THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  WILLIAM  PENN  59 

he  treated  his  slaves  with  uniform  kindness  and  human- 
ity. He  even  urged  upon  the  Assembly  a  bill  obliging 
all  colonists  to  instruct  their  negroes  in  Christian 
truths;  and  while  the  Quakers,  as  a  rule,  made  but 
little  effort  to  convert  the  Indians  about  them,  they 
gave  to  the  savages  a  rare  example  of  that  seldom 
seen  Christianity  which  consistently  practised  what  it 
preached. 

Meanwhile  the  town  grew  and  prospered.  Active 
measures  were  taken  against  the  pirates  who  swarmed 
along  the  coast,  —  unmitigated  ruffians  for  the  most 
part,  who  had  no  wrongs  to  avenge  like  Kingsley's 
warm -hearted  and  sentimental  "Buccaneer";  but  who 
robbed  honest  men,  and  assaulted  honest  women,  and 
dishonoured  the  very  seas  over  which  their  black 
crafts  sailed.  The  commerce  they  had  blocked  was  once 
again  resumed.  Emigration  increased  almost  too  rap- 
idly, people  thought,  for  the  welfare  of  the  colony. 
It  is  curious  to  hear,  echoed  from  the  very  begin- 
ning of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  same  apprehen- 
sive whispers  that  now  disturb  our  peace.  James 
Logan,  who  came  to  the  province  as  Penn's  secretary 
in  1699,  an  \  who  was  for  many  years  the  best,  the 
most  loyal,  and  the  most  capable  public  servant  that 
Pennsylvania  possessed,  wrote  doubtfully,  after  thirty 
years  of  experience  :  "It  looks  as  if  Ireland  is  to 
send  all  its  inhabitants  hither.  The  common  fear  is 
that  if  they  continue  to  come,  they  will  make  them- 


60  PHILADELPHIA 

selves  masters  of  the  place.  It  is  strange  that  they 
thus  crowd  where  they  are  not  wanted." 

Not  very  strange,  for  the  land  was  fertile  and  the 
country  was  at  peace,  a  peace  to  be  broken  and  lost 
before  many  years  had  passed  through  the  harshness 
and  arrogance  of  these  same  Scotch-Irish  emigrants, 
who  tilled  the  soil  with  splendid  industry,  and  an 
undeviating  indifference  as  to  its  rightful  ownership. 
In  1701  Penn  was  recalled  to  England  by  a  fresh 
danger.  Parliament  was  considering  a  bill  for  the 
purchase  by  the  crown  of  all  proprietary  rights ;  and 
to  defend  both  the  independence  of  the  province 
and  his  own  peculiar  claims  became  the  immediate 
duty  of  the  governor.  Before  he  left  Philadelphia, 
the  Assembly,  ever  prompt  to  secure  an  advantage, 
obtained  the  Charter  of  Privileges,  which  gave  it  the 
power  to  originate  its  own  measures,  and  left  to 
Penn,  of  all  his  old  authority,  little  but  empty  hon- 
ours, and  the  quit-rents,  which  were  destined  in  the 
coming  years  to  enrich  his  children  and  his  chil- 
dren's children  "beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice,"  as 
the  story  books  phrase  it,  though  never  beyond  their 
own  avaricious  desires. 

Hannah  Penn  and  Letitia  rejoiced  openly  at  this 
chance  of  returning  to  England  ;  but  Gulielma  Maria's 
son  was  left  in  the  colony,  where  it  was  hoped  he 
would  gain  steadfastness  of  purpose,  and  propriety  of 
behaviour.  "  Weigh  down  his  levities,  temper  his  re- 


THE  LAST   YEARS  OF  WILLIAM  PENN  61 

sentments,  and  inform  his  understanding,"  wrote  Penn 
to  Logan  who  remained  as  Hamilton's  provincial  sec- 
retary, and  upon  whose  capable  shoulders  fell  a 
heavy  burden  of  cares.  The  young  man's  resent- 
ments and  levities,  however,  so  far  outweighed  his 
understanding  that  no  balance  of  sanity  could  be 
struck,  and  his  riotous  conduct  sorely  scandalized  the 
quiet  Quaker  community.  His  father  meanwhile  set- 
tled once  more  into  his  old  familiar  life,  became 
rather  a  favourite  of  good  Queen  Anne's,  succeeded  in 
checking  the  bill  for  the  purchase  of  proprietary 
rights,  and  spent  much  time  at  court,  very  pleasantly 
and  profitably,  until  overtaken  by  the  serious  finan- 
cial trouble  which  shadowed  and  saddened  his  old 
age.  Many  causes  contributed  to  this  disaster.  The 
difficulty  of  collecting  quit-rents,  the  extravagance  of 
his  dissolute  son,  and  the  greed  of  his  parsimonious 
son-in-law,  William  Aubrey,  —  "a  scraping  man," 
says  Penn  with  his  usual  felicity  of  phrase,  who 
compelled  the  prompt  payment  of  Letitia's  portion 
when  so  large  a  sum  could  hardly  be  raised  without 
ruin.  Above  all,  an  unjust  steward  —  that  character 
as  well  known  in  the  eighteenth  Christian  century 
as  in  the  first  —  completed  the  work  of  destruction, 
and  forced  Penn  to  live  for  many  months  within 
the  confines  of  the  Fleet  prison. 

It  is  not  pleasant  for  us  to  contemplate  the  founder 
of   our   Keystone  State,   the   founder   of   our   Quaker 


62  PHILADELPHIA 

City,  pent  up  in  a  London  jail.  It  is  not  pleasant 
for  us  to  remember  that  Robert  Morris,  who  poured 
out  his  wealth  like  water  for  the  support  of  our  en- 
dangered commonwealth,  was  left  to  lie  unhelped  and 
unheeded  in  a  debtor's  prison.  It  is  never  pleasant 
to  realize  that  every  page  of  history  is  but  a  monot- 
onous illustration  of  TourguenefFs  savage  satire,  a 
monotonous  repetition  of  that  pitiless  scene,  where, 
the  virtues  being  gathered  together  in  the  azure 
halls,  it  is  discovered  that  Benevolence  and  Grati- 
tude have  never  met  before.  Even  in  England  and 
in  France,  the  spectacle  of  Penn's  misfortunes  could 
not  long  be  endured  with  equanimity,  and  his  own 
unbroken  courage  heightened  the  feeling  of  sympathy 
and  of  resentment.  A  compromise  was  finally  ef- 
fected, money  was  raised  by  the  English  Quakers 
for  his  release,  and  the  man  to  whom  had  been 
granted  absolute  rights  over  vast  and  unknown  terri- 
tories, was  permitted  to  enjoy  once  more  the  fields 
and  the  skies  of  his  native  land.  He  rented  a  mod- 
est country  house  in  Buckinghamshire,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life  —  until  paralysis  clouded  his 
understanding — was  spent  quietly,  though  with  little 
joy,  for  ever  and  again  some  fresh  contention  with 
the  province  disturbed  his  peace  of  mind.  His  last 
sad,  serious  letter  to  the  colonists  shamed  them  into 
an  outburst  of  love  and  loyalty  which  came  too  late 
for  comfort.  He  died  in  1718,  being  seventy-four 


THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  WILLIAM  PENN  63 

years  old  ;  and  his  most  sincere  mourners  were 
found,  neither  in  London  nor  in  Philadelphia,  but  in 
those  trackless  forests  where  the  Indians  —  whose 
friends  had  been  but  few — still  cherished  and  hon- 
oured the  memory  of  the  "white  truth-teller."  They 
sent  gifts  of  skins  over  the  sea  to  his  widow,  and 
bewailed  in  savage  fashion  around  their  camp-fires 
"  the  man  of  treaties  unbroken,  and  friendships 
inviolate." 

Calumny,  which  loves  a  shining  mark,  has  never 
been  sparing  of  her  favours  to  William  Penn.  Many 
are  the  arrows  she  has  winged  ;  many  are  the  accusa- 
tions she  has  reiterated.  In  his  own  day  he  was 
denounced  by  sturdy  Protestants  as  a  concealed 
Papist,  by  angry  Whigs  as  a  rebel  at  heart,  and  by 
clamorous  preachers  as  a  Jesuit  in  disguise,  which 
last  accusation  might  have  been  spared  a  man  who 
had  two  wives  and  five  children.  He  offended  world- 
lings by  his  Quaker  creed,  which  to  them  was  mere 
hypocrisy,  and  he  scandalized  the  righteous  by  his 
association  with  courts  and  courtiers.  His  personal 
charm  is  vouched  for  by  no  less  censorious  a  critic 
than  Swift,  who  says  that  he  spoke  "very  agreeably, 
and  with  much  spirit."  In  1710,  Swift  writes  to 
Stella  that  he  met  at  Mr.  Harley's,  "Will  Penn  the 
Quaker,"  and  that  they  passed  a  lively  evening, 
being  exceedingly  well  entertained  by  one  another. 
"We  sat  two  hours,  drinking  as  good  wine  as  you 


64  PHILADELPHIA 

do,"  adds  the  great  churchman  with  unwonted  amia- 
bility ;  and  it  is  perhaps  the  strongest  proof  of  Penn's 
lovableness  that,  after  drinking  good  wine  with  him 
for  two  hours  at  night,  Swift  has  the  next  morning 
no  word  of  dispraise  for  his  companion. 


LOGAN  ARMS 


CHAPTER  V 

HOW   THE   QUAKER   CITY   GREW 

HHHE  death  of  William  Penn  closes  one  period  of 
Philadelphia's  history.  His  proprietary  rights 
passed  to  his  widow,  for  the  worthless  son  did  not 
long  survive  his  father,  and  Hannah  Penn's  children 
were  still  minors,  under  her  exclusive  guardianship. 
She  remained  in  England,  and  was  ably  assisted  in 
her  cares  by  Sir  William  Keith,  the  governor  of  the 
province,  a  man  who  behaved  with  great  discretion 
for  years,  and  then,  losing  his  mental  balance  under 
pressure  of  a  too  sustained  success,  quarrelled  with 
Logan,  defied  the  Assembly,  and,  returning  to  London, 
perished  miserably  in  the  Old  Bailey.  He  it  was 
who  first  suggested  paper  currency  to  supply  the 
needs  of  the  colony,  continually  drained  of  gold  by 
the  excess  of  its  imports  over  its  exports,  —  a  dan- 
gerous measure,  but  one  which,  in  prudent  Quaker 
hands,  succeeded  beyond  all  anticipation.  For  fifty 
years  the  notes  never  depreciated,  and  only  with  the 
darkening  of  the  revolutionary  cloud  came  their  melan- 
choly and  disgraceful  downfall.  In  1726,  Franklin, 
then  a  sanguine  young  man  of  twenty,  who,  like  other 
r  65 


66  PHILADELPHIA 

sanguine  young  men,  believed  in  cheap  money  and 
plenty  of  it,  rushed  into  the  field  with  a  pamphlet  on 
"The  Nature  and  Necessity  of  a  Paper  Currency," 
which,  in  the  general  absence  of  sounder  arguments, 
created  a  wide  impression,  and  brought  its  author  into 
enviable  notice.  It  was,  nevertheless,  a  crude  and 
shallow  piece  of  reasoning,  and  Franklin  in  later 
years  clearly  recognized  its  folly.  Older  and  wiser 
eyes  saw,  even  amid  the  present  prosperity,  ominous 
shadows  of  trouble  to  come ;  and  only  three  j^ears  after 
the  publication  of  Franklin's  glittering  generalities, 
James  Logan  confessed  that  his  heart  was  heavy  with 
apprehension.  "  I  dare  not  say  one  word  against  the 
paper  money,"  he  wrote  sadly  in  1729.  "  The  popular 
phrensy  will  never  stop  till  our  credit  be  as  bad  as  in 
New  England,  where  an  ounce  of  silver  is  worth 
twenty  shillings  of  paper.  They  already  talk  of 
making  more,  and  no  man  dares  to  stem  the  fury  of 
the  rage.  The  notion  is  that  while  any  man  will 
borrow  on  good  security  of  land,  more  money  should 
be  made  for  him,  without  thinking  of  what  value  it 
will  be  when  made.  They  affirm  that,  while  the 
security  is  good,  the  money  cannot  fall.  The  King's 
own  hand  should  forbid  this  folly." 

For  a  while,  however,  and  a  long  while  too,  all  went 
merrily  as  wedding  bells.  The  province  grew  stronger 
and  more  populous,  the  city  increased  yearly  in  size 
and  wealth.  Luxury  and  gayety  began  to  manifest 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  GREW  67 

themselves,  and  we  hear  the  echo  of  many  an  unheeded 
protest  against  the  insidious  encroachments  of  the 
world;  against  the  use  of  snuff-boxes,  for  example, 
and  of  fans,  which  were  carried  even  to  the  meeting- 
house, where  they  diverted  women's  minds  from 
"inward  and  spiritual  exercise."  As  early  as  1726 
devout  female  Friends  were  publicly  cautioned  against 
"  the  immodest  fashion  of  hooped  Petticoats,"  and  even 
against  "  imitations  of  them  by  stiffened  or  full  Skirts, 
which  we  take "  (very  rightly)  "  to  be  but  a  Branch 
springing  from  the  same  corrupt  root  of  Pride."  They 
were  also  forbidden  to  wear  striped  shoes,  to  lay  pleats 
in  their  caps,  "  to  cut  or  draw  down  their  hair  on  their 
Foreheads  and  Temples,"  or  to  put  aside  that  badge  of 
demure  and  domestic  womanhood  —  the  apron.  Much 
scandal  was  given,  moreover,  by  the  readiness  with 
which  the  merry  wives  of  Philadelphia  joined  in  their 
husbands'  comfortable  potations.  The  eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  the  great  drinking  era,  and  our  colony  fol- 
lowed in  no  halting  measure  the  jovial  fashions  of 
the  day.  In  1733  the  Pennsylvania  Gazette  laments 
that  Philadelphia  women,  "  otherwise  discreet,"  instead 
of  contenting  themselves  with  one  good  draught  of 
beer  in  the  morning,  take  "two  or  three  drams,  by 
which  their  appetite  for  wholesome  food  is  destroyed." 
Much  might  be  written  about  the  taverns  which, 
from  the  very  beginning,  played  an  important  part  in 
this  dull,  cheerful,  prosperous,  unplagued  colonial  life. 


68  PHILADELPHIA 

Their  faded  sign-boards  swung  in  every  street,  and 
curious  old  verses,  copied  by  loving  antiquarians, 
still  remain  to  show  us  what  our  wise  forefathers  liked 
to  read.  One  little  pot-house  had  painted  on  its 
board,  a  tree,  a  bird,  a  ship,  and  a  mug  of  beer,  while 
beneath  were  these  encouraging  lines  :  — 

"This  is  the  tree  that  never  grew, 
This  is  the  bird  that  never  flew, 
This  is  the  ship  that  never  sailed, 
This  is  the  mug  that  never  failed." 

When  the  increasing  hostility  to  Great  Britain  dis- 
turbed more  and  more  the  peacefulness  of  province 
and  of  town,  the  sign-boards  caught  the  restless  tone 
of  discontent,  and  became  belligerent  rather  than 
festive  and  hospitable.  A  diminutive,  one-storied 
tavern  with  high  pitched  roof,  near  the  old  Swedes' 
church,  displayed  a  hen,  a  brood  of  young  chickens, 
and  an  eagle  hovering  over  them  with  a  crown  in 
its  beak.  Below,  in  large  letters,  was  this  patriotic 
sentiment :  "  May  the  wings  of  Liberty  cover  the 
chickens  of  Freedom,  and  pluck  the  crown  from  the 
enemy's  head!  "  —  a  valiant  display  of  metaphors  irre- 
sistibly suggestive  of  Elijah  Pogram,  the  immortal,  and 
his  eloquent  words  anent  the  impetuous  Mr.  Chollop : 
"  He  is  a  child  of  Natur'  and  a  child  of  Freedom ;  and 
his  boastful  answer  to  the  Despot  and  the  Tyrant  is 
that  his  bright  home  is  in  the  Settin'  Sun." 

When  the  colonists   began   to   have   sufficient   leis- 


ROW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  GREW 


69 


ure  for  ennui,  the  question  arose  in  Philadelphia, 
as  in  every  other  community,  "  What  shall  we  do  to 
be  amused?"  and  the  answer  was  difficult  to  find. 
Amusements  were  held  in  no  great  esteem  by  decorous 
citizens,  and  for  a  while  it  seemed  as  if  the  primitive 
pastimes  of  cock-fighting  and  bull-baiting  were  the 
only  admissible  diversions.  Cock-fighting,  indeed,  was 


OLD   HOUSE   ON    RACE   STREET    WHARF 

so  universally  popular,  that  even  in  later  days  when 
Mr.  Whitefield's  eloquent  preaching  had  persuaded 
good  Philadelphians  to  deny  themselves  the  sinful  joys 
of  dancing  and  of  music,  the  personal  friends  and 
warm  supporters  of  the  uncompromising  divine  were 
still  as  careful  as  ever  in  the  rearing  of  their  young 
game-cocks.  As  for  bull-baiting,  it  held  its  own  until 
1820,  when  Mayor  Wharton  put  an  abrupt  and  final 


70  PHILADELPHIA 

end  to  the  sport  by  confiscating  the  last  bull  ever  seen 
in  a  Philadelphia  ring. 

Occasionally,  across  the  arid  waste  of  dulness,  came 
jugglers  and  tight-rope  dancers,  lending  to  the  virtu- 
ous little  town  a  transient  air  of  excess.  In  the  winter 
of  1724,  a  band  of  these  roving  acrobats  was  kindly 
received  by  all  but  the  Quaker  colonists,  and  especial 
favour  was  shown  to  a  child  of  seven,  "  who  danced  and 
capered  upon  the  strait  roap,  to  the  wonder  of  all 
spectators."  A  few  years  later,  an  eight-legged  cat 
was  exhibited  to  the  delighted  public ;  also  a  moose, 
(spelled  in  the  old  notice,  mouse,  which  is  misleading) 
and  "  a  beautiful  creature,  but  surprising  fierce,  called 
a  leopard."  By  the  end  of  the  century,  our  forefathers 
were  still  so  easily  entertained  that  they  manifested 
wild  enthusiasm  for  the  skeleton  of  a  mammoth,  which 
had  been  found  in  a  marl  pit  in  New  York,  and  which 
was  brought  to  Philadelphia  by  the  enterprising  Mr. 
Peale,  who  generously  restored  all  the  missing  bones ; 
and  it  was  not  until  a  comparatively  recent  date  that 
the  first  waxworks  made  their  appearance,  and  were 
greeted  with  universal  enthusiasm. 

None  of  the  gracious  tolerance  manifested  for  the 
cock-pit  and  other  virile  amusements  was  shown  to  the 
poor  actors,  who  from  time  to  time  ventured  to  try 
their  fortunes  in  the  Quaker  City.  When,  in  1749,  a 
little  troop  of  shabby  players  presented  themselves 
forlornly  in  an  improvised  theatre,  and  gave  to  Phila- 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  GEEW  71 

delphia  the  unsolicited  honour  of  seeing  the  first  Shake- 
sperian  representation  in  the  United  States,  they  were 
promptly  suppressed  by  active  magistrates,  as  "  encour- 
aging idleness,  and  drawing  great  sums  of  money  [?] 
from  weak  and  inconsiderate  persons."  The  stage, 
however,  in  every  land  and  in  every  century,  has  been 
wily  enough  to  present  herself  at  first  as  a  religious 
and  moral  teacher,  and  to  gain  her  first  hearing  on  the 
score  of  the  good  she  hopes  to  do.  She  is  like  that 
adroit  demon  of  Benozzo  Gozzoli  in  the  Campo  Santo 
at  Pisa,  who  enters  the  hermitage  disguised  as  a  pil- 
grim, and,  notwithstanding  the  palpable  evidence  of 
horn  and  hoof,  is  welcomed  joyously  by  the  devout  and 
unsuspicious  hermit.  In  1754,  Hallam's  Company  from 
London  established  themselves  modestly  in  a  shop  on 
South  Street,  obtained  with  difficulty  a  license  to  act 
for  a  few  months,  provided  they  offered  "  nothing  in- 
decent or  immoral,"  and  proceeded  at  once  to  stem  the 
stream  of  popular  disapprobation  by  distributing  on 
the  streets  a  slender  pamphlet,  setting  forth  the  harm- 
less nature  of  their  occupation.  The  imposing  title  of 
this  pamphlet  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"Extracts  of  Several  Treatises, 

Wrote  by  the    Prince  of  Conti; 

With  the  Sentiments  of  the  Fathers, 

And  some  of  the  Decrees  of  the  Councils, 

Concerning  Stage  Plays. 

Recommended  to  the  Perusal,  and  Serious  Consideration  of  the 
Professors  of  Christianity,  in  the  City  of  Philadelphia." 


72  PHILADELPHIA 

A  curious  pleading  this,  to  urge  against  the  ill-will 
of  Quakers  and  Presbyterians  who  did  not,  as  a  rule, 
concern  themselves  deeply  with  the  sentiments  of  the 
Fathers,  or  the  decrees  of  the  Councils,  and  for  whom 
the  opinions  of  the  Prince  of  Conti  must  have  carried 
marvellously  little  weight.  A  better  argument  in 
behalf  of  the  players  was  the  alacrity  with  which  they 
gave  the  proceeds  of  one  night's  entertainment  to  the 
Charity  School  that  had  been  established  in  connection 
with  the  newly  founded  Academy.  But  even  this 
heavy  bribe,  which  they  could  so  ill  afford,  failed  to 
soften  the  spirit  of  opposition,  or  to  awaken  general 
interest.  Few  people  knew  or  cared  anything  about 
the  actor's  art ;  fewer  still  could  be  persuaded  that 
it  was  a  justifiable  vocation.  Science  was  much  in 
fashion,  thanks  to  Franklin  and  his  discoveries,  and 
young  men  of  education  and  leisure  preferred,  or  said 
they  preferred,  the  lectures  of  Professor  Kinnersly  on 
electricity  to  the  purposeless  soliloquies  of  Hamlet,  or 
the  wild  ravings  of  King  Richard  III.  It  is  to  be 
feared  that  little,  learned  Philadelphia  was  something 
of  a  prig,  until  those  gay  and  graceless  days  when  an 
English  army  held  her  in  thraldom,  and  English  offi- 
cers taught  her  seductive  lessons,  in  which  science  and 
lectures  played  but  scanty  parts. 

After  an  absence  of  five  years,  the  indomitable  Hal- 
lams  returned  to  the  city  which  had  welcomed  them 
so  coldly,  established  themselves  prudently  outside  the 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  GREW  73 

town  limits,  and  printed  their  play-bills  in  a  wary 
fashion  ;  promising  as  a  rule  "  A  Concert  of  Music,"  — 
which  sounded  harmless  —  "  to  be  followed  by  a  moral 
Dialogue  on  the  Vice  of  Gaming,"  —  or  any  other  vice 
suitable  for  the  occasion.  The  word  "  play "  was 
always  religiously  omitted  from  these  early  notices. 
We  see  "  Hamlet "  and  "  Jane  Shore "  described  as 
"moral  and  instructive  Tales";  and  sometimes  the 
whole  entertainment,  "The  Fair  Penitent,"  perhaps, 
and  "  Miss  in  her  Teens,"  is  mendaciously  advertised 
as  a  lecture. 

Of  little  avail,  however,  was  all  this  strategy  and 
subterfuge.  Quakers,  Presbyterians,  Baptists,  and 
Lutherans  united  their  forces  to  rout  from  their  virtu- 
ous town  these  brazen  representatives  of  evil.  The 
argent  petition  they  addressed  to  the  Assembly  set 
forth  in  no  measured  terms  the  mischief  wrought  in  a 
peaceful  community  by  "  idle  persons  and  strollers,  who 
have  come  into  this  province  from  foreign  parts,  in  the 
character  of  players,  erected  stages  and  theatres,  and 
thereon  acted  divers  plays,  by  which  the  weak,  poor, 
and  necessitous  have  been  prevailed  on  to  neglect  their 
industry  and  labour,  and  to  give  extravagant  prices  for 
their  tickets ;  and  great  numbers  of  disorderly  persons 
have  been  drawn  together  in  the  night,  to  the  distress 
of  many  poor  families,  manifest  injury  to  this  young 
colony,  and  grievous  scandal  of  religion,  and  the  laws 
of  the  government." 


74  PHILADELPHIA 

A  heavy  arraignment  against  a  dozen  poor  mum- 
mers, who  could  plead  nothing  in  their  own  be- 
half, save  that  they  were  striving  to  give  pleasure 
and  amuse,  and  whose  flimsy  pretence  of  moral 
instruction  was  swept  away  like  a  cobweb  by  these 
vigorous  home  truths.  Philadelphia  had  all  the 
moral  instruction  of  which  she  stood  in  need,  with- 
out any  assistance  from  the  stage  ;  and  so  her  citi- 
zens probably  felt,  for,  after  a  struggle  of  some 
months,  hostile  virtue  triumphed  signally,  —  the  little 
playhouse  was  closed,  the  plays  forbidden,  and  the 
dejected  actors  set  forth  once  more  in  search  of 
colonies  less  stanchly  wedded  to  electricity  and 
rectitude. 

But  not  for  long.  There  is  a  power  of  resistance 
in  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  which  the  up- 
holders of  morality  do  not  always  take  sufficiently 
into  account.  For  seven  years  the  Quaker  City 
waxed  fat  in  uncontaminated  goodness,  and  then  the 
fight  with  Apollyon  was  again  renewed,  and  renewed 
under  ominous  disadvantages.  Apollyon  had  built 
himself  a  home,  a  real  playhouse  this  time,  albeit  a 
poor,  shabby  little  structure,  miserably  inadequate  to 
the  cause  of  vice.  In  this  playhouse,  long  known  as 
the  Old  Southwark  Theatre,  actors  strutted  through 
their  nightly  parts,  while  the  storm  of  righteousness 
rolled  unheeded  around  them  ;  and  to  this  playhouse 
was  accorded  the  honour  of  producing  the  first 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  GREW  75 

American  play  ever  publicly  acted  in  the  colonies. 
A  strictly  moral  drama  it  was,  entitled  "The  Prince 
of  Parthia,"  written  in  deplorable  blank  verse,  and 
of  a  dulness  so  uniform  and  sustained  that  even  a 
lecture  on  electricity  must  have  seemed  sprightly  by 
its  side.  Its  author,  Thomas  Godfrey,  was  an  aspir- 
ing young  watchmaker  of  Philadelphia,  a  protege  of 
Franklin  ;  and  he  acquired  an  enviable  reputation  as 
a  poet  in  those  halcyon  days  when  literary  criticism 
had  not  yet  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  when  a  book 
was  necessarily  a  good  book,  a  poem  was  necessarily  a 
good  poem,  and  a  play  was  necessarily  a  good  play, 
unless  they  offended  public  taste  and  decency. 

Vehement  were  the  remonstrances  urged  by  the 
elect  against  the  Southwark  Theatre,  and  the  sinful 
diversions  it  afforded.  Play-acting,  it  was  affirmed, 
was  "akin  to  image-worship,"  though  the  connection 
between  the  two  was  not  very  clearly  denned  ;  and 
the  Assembly  was  entreated  to  put  an  end  to  this 
open  scandal  and  iniquity.  The  Assembly,  however, 
had  grown  less  hostile  to  the  stage,  and  Governor 
Penn  stoutly  refused  to  interfere  with  the  actors. 
They  were  tolerated  from  year  to  year,  though  never 
assured  of  protection,  and  never  released  from  assault. 
In  the  Pennsylvania  G-azette,  Dec.  19,  1768,  we  find 
a  long  communication  from  a  sanctimonious  gentle- 
man, who  laments  the  hold  which  the  theatre  has 
gained  upon  the  public  mind.  Young  people,  it 


76  PHILADELPHIA 

seems,  were  even  guilty  of  going  to  the  play  on 
nights  when  they  might  have  gone  to  church.  He 
himself,  so  great  was  the  general  laxity,  had  been 
presented  with  a  box  ticket  the  day  before  ;  but 
"having  no  taste  for  theatrical  performances,"  he  had 
attended  religious  service  instead,  and  had  handed 
over  the  ticket  to  a  black  servant,  whose  soul,  he 
plainly  considered,  could  not  be  easily  injured.  The 
negro  apparently  thought  otherwise.  "The  virtuous 
slave  immediately  sold  the  ticket  for  half  price,  and 
purchased  a  prayer  book  with  the  money.  An  exam- 
ple of  virtue  and  religion  in  a  slave,  worthy  the  imi- 
tation of  the  greatest  ruler  upon  earth." 

It  was  not  until  after  the  Revolution  that  Phila- 
delphia— no  longer,  alas!  the  Quaker  City  —  ceased 
to  look  askance  upon  the  stage.  During  those  brief 
months  in  which  the  English  army  occupied  the 
town,  theatrical  representations  of  every  kind  became 
a  recognized  source  of  amusement  in  a  community 
which  suddenly,  amid  dangers,  battles,  and  bank- 
ruptcy, found  out  how  delightful  it  was  to  be 
amused.  The  officers  of  General  Howe's  staff  acted 
a  number  of  plays  in  the  Southwark  Theatre,  giving 
the  proceeds  always  to  the  soldiers'  widows  and  or- 
phans. Major  Andre  and  Captain  De  Lancey  achieved 
especial  distinction,  not  only  as  comedians,  but  as 
scene-painters,  costumers,  and  property  men.  The 
famous  drop  curtain  painted  by  Major  Andre,  and 


HOW   THE  QUAKE II   CITY  GREW 


77 


representing  a  waterfall  in  a  forest  glade,  was  held 
to  be  a  triumph  of  art.  It  is  described  over  and 
over  again  in  contemporary  letters  as  exceedingly 


beautiful,  and  was   used  with   much  pride  for   years, 
until  lost  in  the  burning  of  the  theatre. 

Nor  were  the  American  officers  averse,  as  a  rule, 
to  the  seductions  of  the  stage.  Washington  honestly 
loved  a  good  comedy  or  a  rattling  farce,  and  was 


78  PHILADELPHIA 

seen  more  than  once  in  the  east  proscenium  box  of 
the  Southwark  Theatre,  to  the  disedification  of  many 
good  citizens.  There  must  have  been  a  sharp  strug- 
gle now  and  then  with  deep-rooted  prejudice  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  respect  it  was  impossible  to  with- 
hold from  the  President,  on  the  other.  This  conflict 
of  feeling  is  amusingly  apparent  in  a  letter  written 
by  Senator  Maclay,  who,  being  honoured  by  a  seat 
in  Washington's  box,  is  divided  between  gratification 
at  the  privilege  and  a  strong  distaste  for  the  enter- 
tainment. "  The  play,"  he  writes,  "  was  the  '  School 
for  Scandal.'  I  never  liked  it.  Indeed,  I  think  it 
an  indecent  representation  before  ladies  of  character 
and  virtue.  The  farce  that  followed  was  4  The  Old 
Soldier.'  The  house  was  greatly  crowded,  and  I 
thought  the  players  acted  well  ;  but  I  wish  we  had 
seen  the  'Conscious  Lovers,'  or  some  play  that  incul- 
cated more  prudential  manners." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  Philadelphia  had  wan- 
dered far  from  her  early  decorum,  and  the  esti- 
mable "Prince  of  Parthia,"  when  she  sat,  smiling 
and  unconcerned,  to  see  the  "School  for  Scandal." 
The  day  was  fast  approaching  when  the  stage,  freed 
from  the  yoke  of  the  pious  oppressor,  was  to  flaunt, 
a  licensed  libertine,  unmindful  of  old  promises,  moral 
instruction,  the  decrees  of  the  Councils,  and  the  ad- 
mirable opinions  of  the  Prince  of  Conti.  For  many 
months  the  Dramatic  Association  had  striven  unceas- 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  GREW  79 

ingly  for  the  repeal  of  the  Act  of  Prohibition,  which 
hung  like  the  sword  of  Damocles  over  each  actor's 
head,  blighting  his  peace  of  mind,  and  keeping  him 
up  to  an  uncomfortably  rigid  standard  of  ethics. 
At  last,  on  the  second  of  March,  1789,  the  efforts  of 
the  Association  triumphed  over  all  opposition.  The 
obnoxious  act  was  repealed,  and  the  Southwark  The- 
atre was  opened  "by  authority"  for  the  first  time 
since  it  was  built.  Polite  deceptions  were  henceforth 
at  an  end  ;  moral  dialogues  and  fictitious  lectures 
ceased  to  figure  on  the  bills ;  a  play  was  a  play,  and 
a  spade  was  a  spade,  for  all  the  emancipated  years 
to  come. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE  BIRTH   OF   LEARNING   IN   THE   QUAKER   CITY 

r  I  ^HERE  is  an  especial  charm  to  the  modest  student 
of  history  in  contemplating  the  little  beginnings  of 
big  things ;  and  most  big  things,  whose  bigness  is  of  a 
lasting  and  satisfying  nature,  have  started  on  so  small 
a  scale  that  we  can  afford  to  feel  familiar  with  them 
from  their  birth.  It  is  only  in  the  present  day,  and 
only  in  this  impatient  western  world,  that  institutions 
are  expected  to  spring  into  existence,  as  Pallas  Athene 
sprang  from  the  brain  of  Zeus,  vigorous,  mature,  and 

80 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN   THE  QUAKER  CITY      81 

fully  equipped  for  achievement.  An  impression  pre- 
vails now  among  energetic  people  that  a  university  can 
be  finished  off-hand,  and  set  running  like  a  locomotive. 
All  we  need  are  the  stone  walls,  the  apparatus,  and 
money  to  pay  the  professors.  It  is  a  mere  question  of 
steam.  But  the  wise  old  monk  who  said  to  the  mag- 
nificent Medici,  "  Ah  !  Lorenzo,  money  does  not  make 
masters ;  masters  make  money,"  knew  whereof  he 
spoke.  Our  great,  great  grandfathers  had  but  little 
money  when  they  planted  the  seeds  of  learning  in  the 
infant  colonies ;  but  they  gave  unstintedly  from  their 
narrow  resources,  and  were  content  that  future  genera- 
tions should  finish  their  work,  and  reap  the  fulness  of 
their  harvest.  Two  young  men,  one  of  them  a  chemist 
and  one  a  dentist,  called  together  a  few  friends  in  their 
own  walk  of  life,  rented  a  little  room  over  a  milliner's 
shop,  placed  in  it,  with  infinite  pride,  a  dozen  stuffed 
birds  and  a  jar  or  two  of  reptiles,  and  met  there  at 
night  to  discuss  "  the  operations  of  nature,"  pledging 
themselves  wisely  to  leave  politics  and  religion  entirely 
out  of  their  debates.  From  this  modest  beginning,  this 
insignificant  society,  sprang  the  Philadelphia  Academy 
of  Natural  Sciences,  the  oldest  institution  of  its  kind 
in  America,  which  has  borne  a  part  in  Arctic  expedi- 
tions, diffused  knowledge  over  the  eastern  States,  and 
counted  among  its  members  the  scholars  and  scientists 
of  the  land. 

In  another  small  room  in  Jone's  Alley,  a  few  books, 


82  PHILADELPHIA 

loaned  by  a  club  of  gentlemen,  were  kept  in  three  little 
bookcases  for  the  benefit  of  members  who  might  wish 
to  consult  them,  and  these  three  little  bookcases  cradled 
the  infancy  of  the  Philadelphia  Library.  The  volumes 
grew  so  shabby  under  constant  handling  that  their 
owners  became  dissatisfied ;  and  into  the  fertile  brain 
of  Franklin  crept  the  project  of  a  public  library  which 
should  differ  from  all  other  public  libraries,  inasmuch 
as  its  books  should  be  lent  to  subscribers,  and  carried 
home  "into  the  bosom  of  private  families."  Much  was 
hoped  for  the  future,  but  little  was  exacted  from  the 
present,  Franklin  being  wise  enough  to  recognize  the 
principle  of  growth.  Fifty  gentlemen  willing  to  pay 
forty  shillings  each  were  sought  for  anxiously,  but,  as 
they  were  hard  to  find,  half  that  number  were  held  to 
be  sufficient  for  a  foundation,  and  when  the  Library 
Company  saw  itself  in  possession  of  forty-five  pounds, 
it  determined  to  send  to  England  for  books.  With  a 
modesty  beyond  all  praise,  the  members  of  the  Com- 
pany acknowledged  their  unfitness  to  select  these 
precious  volumes,  and  requested  James  Logan,  "a 
gentleman  of  universal  learning,  and  the  best  judge  of 
books  in  these  parts,"  to  make  out  the  necessary  list. 
When  the  infant  library  arrived  in  Philadelphia,  —  a 
pedantic  and  somewhat  ponderous  infant  it  proved  to 
be,  —  the  room  in  Jone's  Alley  was  prepared  for  its  re- 
ception ;  and  from  there  it  migrated  to  an  apartment 
in  the  State  House,  and  afterwards  to  Carpenter's  Hall. 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     83 

The  elate  directors  met  at  the  house  of  Nicholas  Scull, 
"who  loved  books,  and  sometimes  made  a  few  verses," 
elected  a  librarian,  who  only  attended  twice  a  week, 
designed  a  seal,  and  passed  a  resolution,  placing  their 
volumes  at  the  disposal  of  any  "  civil  gentleman  "  who 
wished  to  read  them,  though  only  subscribers  were  per- 
mitted to  carry  them  away.  A  public  library,  it  may 
be  observed,  was  not  then  intended  to  provide  young 
women  with  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  novels. 

In  1733,  Thomas  Penn,  second  son  of  William  Penn 
and  Hannah  Callowhill,  visited  the  colony,  and  the 
adroit  directors  presented  him  with  an  address,  asking 
his  patronage  for  an  institution  which  was  to  make 
Philadelphia  "the  future  Athens  of  America."  His  Ex- 
cellency was  not  averse  to  a  little  well-timed  flattery, 
and  was  ready  to  assist  inexpensively  in  moulding  an 
American  Athens.  He  presented  to  the  Library  an  air- 
pump,  a  microscope,  and  the  promise  of  a  lot  of  land, 
which  was  not  definitely  secured  until  twenty-four 
years  later.  Other  gentlemen  imitated  his  generosity, 
and  donated  a  cabinet  of  medals,  a  collection  of  Indian 
fish-hooks,  some  Chinese  slippers,  the  hand  of  an 
Egyptian  mummy,  and  various  articles  of  the  kind 
that  museums  are  now  expected  to  accept  from  any- 
body who  wishes  to  be  rid  of  them,  but  which  were 
particularly  undesirable  in  a  library  which  lacked 
sufficient  space  for  its  books.  The  volumes  remained 
in  Carpenter's  Hall  until  after  the  Revolution,  and 


84  PHILADELPHIA 

were  an  occasional  solace  to  both  the  English  and 
American  officers,  especially  when  the  library-room 
was  used  as  a  hospital.  Not  a  single  book,  it  is  said, 
was  lost  or  mutilated  during  this  period  of  usurpation, 
and  the  soldiers  with  scrupulous  integrity  or  courtesy 
paid  the  customary  fee  for  every  work  they  read. 

In  1789  the  directors  laid  the  corner-stone  of  the 
old  library  building  in  Fifth  Street,  with  its  curious 
homely  inscription  :  — 

"  Be  it  remembered 

In  honour  of  the  Philadelphia  youth, 

(Then  chiefly  artificers) 

That  in  MDCCXXXI 

They  cheerfully, 
At  the  instance  of  Benjamin  Franklin, 

One  of  their  number, 
Instituted  the  Philadelphia  Library ; 

Which  though  small  at  first, 
Is  become  highly  valuable  and  extensively  useful ; 

And  which  the  walls  of  this  edifice 
Are  now  destined  to  contain  and  preserve." 

In  December,  1790,  the  books  were  triumphantly 
carried  to  this  their  first  real  home.  A  statue  of 
Franklin,  executed  in  Italy,  was  presented  to  the 
Company  by  Mr.  William  Bingham,  and  placed  in 
a  niche  over  the  doorway.  Tradition  says  that  this 
statue  cost  five  hundred  guineas,  and  history  records 
that,  before  it  was  ordered,  a  committee  of  the  direc- 
tors waited  upon  the  illustrious  scholar  to  learn  his 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     85 

wishes  in  the  matter,  and  reported  to  Mr.  Bingham 
that  Dr.  Franklin  desired  "  a  gown  for  his  dress,  and 
a  Roman  head."  The  figure  was  accordingly  draped 
in  a  toga,  after  the  approved  fashion  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  of  which  St.  Paul's  in  London  affords  us  so 
many  delightful  examples,  and  it  looks  like  a  benign 
old  gentleman  preparing  decorously  for  his  morning 
bath.  It  still  stands  over  the  portal  of  the  new 
library  building  erected  in  Locust  Street,  in  1880, 
when  the  vast  accumulation  of  books  demanded  a  more 
spacious  habitation. 

For  the  few  insignificant  volumes  in  the  little  room 
in  Jone's  Alley  have  increased  and  multiplied  exceed- 
ingly. In  1792  the  Loganian  Library,  so  called  from 
its  founder,  James  Logan,  was  added  to  the  collection. 
In  1869  the  bequest  of  Dr.  James  Rush  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Company  the  beautiful  building  known 
as  the  Ridgway  Branch  of  the  Philadelphia  Library. 
In  this  spacious  mansion,  stately,  remote,  and  inac- 
cessible, a  hundred  thousand  volumes  repose  in  dig- 
nified seclusion.  It  is  a  granite  mausoleum  where 
knowledge  sleeps  serenely,  unvexed  by  would-be 
readers,  and  the  noisy  tumult  of  the  world.  Far 
different  is  the  fate  of  the  remaining  books  which 
number  nearly  a  hundred  thousand  more,  and  which, 
in  the  less  imposing  edifice  in  Locust  Street,  are  com- 
paratively at  the  mercy  of  the  crowd.  Here,  too, 
may  be  found  a  number  of  interesting  historical  relics 


86 


PHILADELPHIA 


William  Penn's   desk,    comfortable,    commodious,  and 
full  of  delightful  little  drawers ;  his  clock,  still  bravely 
keeping   time;     Franklin's   clock,    which  is   far  more 
*        jgj   .  ornate  and  elegant ;    and  the  old  in- 

scribed corner-stone  of  the  Fifth 
Street  Library,  which  has  been  care- 
fully transferred  to  the  new  walls. 
Here,  in  the  words  of  the  devout  orni- 
thologist, Alexander  Wilson,  we  may 

"  Feast  with  sages,  and  give  thanks  to  God ;  " 

not  altogether  ignoring  our  debt  of 
gratitude  to  the  "  artificers  "  of  Phila- 
delphia, who,  nearly  two  centuries 
ago,  planned  and  plotted,  worked  and 
saved,  to  leave  to  future  generations 
the  little  library  which,  grown  into 
such  fair  proportions,  is  an  inheri- 
tance carrying  down  to  us  in  every 
volume  the  wisdom  and  the  good-will 
of  our  ancestors. 

It  is  to  Franklin  that  the  Quaker 
City  owes  her  college  as  well  as  her 

FRANKLIN'S  CLOCK      n       ^ 

books.  Indeed,  we  can  no  more 
escape  from  Franklin  when  studying  the  history  of 
Philadelphia,  than  we  can  escape  from  Michelangelo 
when  studying  the  treasures  of  Rome  or  Florence ; 
and  Mark  Twain's  ribald  witticism  is  as  applicable  to 


^L> — ^ — v 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     87 

the  one  case  as  to  the  other.  Turn  where  we  will, 
from  the  homeliest  detail  of  practical  life  to  the  sharp 
strife  of  politics,  the  wild  flights  of  philosophy,  the 
freshly  opened  field  of  scientific  research ;  seek  where 
we  may  for  the  beginning  of  everything  that  is  most 
useful  and  most  highly  valued  in  the  Philadelphia  of 
to-day,  and  we  are  always  confronted  by  the  same 
ubiquitous  figure.  It  was  Franklin  who  invented  the 
stove  which  warmed  nearly  every  parlour  in  the  town ; 
Franklin  who  invented  the  lightning-rod  which  pro- 
tected nearly  every  farmhouse  in  the  State ;  Franklin 
who  organized  the  fire  companies ;  Franklin  who  started 
the  Philosophical  Society ;  Franklin  who  obtained  from 
England  a  fair  taxation  of  the  proprietary  estates ; 
Franklin  who  pranked  it  gayly  at  the  French  court, 
flattered  by  fair  women,  and  cheered  by  the  sapient 
mob;  and  Franklin  who,  alarmed  at  the  ignorance  he 
saw  on  every  side  of  him,  resolved  that  the  sons  of 
Philadelphia  citizens  should  have  some  higher  educa- 
tion than  that  afforded  them  by  the  admirable  but 
limited  training  of  the  Quaker  schools. 

In  1749,  having  thought  the  matter  over  for  several 
years,  he  made  known  his  views  in  a  pamphlet  entitled 
"Proposals  Relating  to  the  Education  of  Youth  in 
Pennsylvania."  Many  of  these  "proposals,"  it  must 
be  admitted,  are  of  a  serenely  chimerical  order,  and 
suggest  the  Utopian  dreams  of  Milton,  who  held  that 
schoolboys  should  never  be  permitted  to  eat  their 


88  PHILADELPHIA 

dinners,  uncheered  by  the  ravishment  of  music.  For 
music,  indeed,  Franklin  cared  but  little  ;  and  as  for 
dinners,  they  were  to  be  of  Spartan  simplicity  in  the 
new  establishment.  "  Poor  Richard "  was  not  likely 


to  see  the  college  funds  wasted  in  riotous  living.  But 
the  school  should  be  surrounded  by  an  orchard  and 
many  green  meadows ;  the  students  were  to  learn  how 
to  write  "a  fair  hand  swiftly";  to  acquire  a  moderate 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     89 

knowledge  of  arithmetic,  geometry,  astronomy,  and 
kindred  subjects ;  and  to  read  Pope,  Addison,  Tillot- 
son,  Algernon  Sidney,  and  a  translation  of  Cato's 
Letters,  by  way  of  acquiring  good  style  and  good  prin- 
ciples. On  Greek  and  Latin,  alas  !  no  time  was  to  be 
wasted,  —  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass  through  the 
eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  self-taught  man  to  recognize 
the  value  of  the  classics,  —  but  the  grand  underlying 
principle  of  the  institution  was  that  the  students  were 
to  study  nothing,  unless  they  felt  impatient  to  do  so. 
Even  a  simple  matter  like  geography  was  not  to  be 
essayed,  until  a  familiarity  with  past  events  —  how 
acquired  we  are  not  told  —  had  awakened  in  them  a 
desire  to  know  the  position  and  extent  of  countries 
where  such  events  had  taken  place.  Education,  which 
hitherto  had  meant  the  goading  on  of  rehj^taTiF^outli, 

,  —  a  free 


and  joyous  pursuit  of  knowledge,  of  such  knowledge,  at 
least,  as  the  Philadelphia  lads-desBaeii  it  incumbent  to 


acquire. 

The  breadth  and  depth  of  Franklin's  theories 
did  not  for  one  moment  interfere  with  his  severely 
practical  plans  for  the  establishment  and  support  of 
the  Academy.  The  subscription  he  set  on  foot  for  this 
purpose  met  with  extraordinary  success,  the  number  of 
students  increased  rapidly,  and  the  trustees  acquired 
for  very  little  money  the  great  barn-like  building  on 
Fourth  Street  that  had  been  erected  for  the  benefit  of 


90  PHILADELPHIA 

the  Rev.  Mr.  Whitefield,  after  he  had  alienated  the 
affections  of  his  brother  clergymen  by  passing  "  unwar- 
rantable sentences  on  men,  as  if  he  were  the  supreme 
Judge,"  —  a  habit  ill  calculated  to  promote  charity  and 
geod-will.  The  selection  of  the  Rev.  William  Smith 
for  provost  was  due  largely  to  another  pamphlet  — 
pamphlets  carried  wondrous  weight  in  those  colonial 
days  —  which  that  ardent  young  Scotchman  had  pub- 
lished a  year  or  two  before,  and  in  which  he  gave  his 
views  upon  the  training  and  education  of  youth.  Dr. 
Smith's  literary  methods  were  not  wholly  unlike  those 
of  our  modern  social  reformers.  Instead  of  dry,  logi- 
cal arguments,  he  contented  himself  with  a  lively 
description  of  an  imaginary  and  ideal  institution,  the 
"  College  of  Mirania,"  in  which  lads  were  taught, 
somewhat  after  the  "  Harry  and  Lucy  "  fashion,  every- 
thing that  mortal  man  could  learn.  Physics  and 
fencing,  mechanics  and  agriculture,  the  philosophy  of 
politics  and  practical  farming,  —  nothing  came  amiss 
to  the  Miranian  youths,  and  nothing  sated  their  inex- 
haustible thirst  for  information.  Franklin,  who  knew 
most  things  himself,  and  saw  no  reason  why  other  men 
should  not  know  them  too,  was  enchanted  with  the 
pamphlet,  and  eager  to  secure  the  services  of  its  author. 
The  trustees  shared  his  enthusiasm,  without  his  know- 
ledge to  excuse  it ;  Smith  was  summoned  from  New 
York  to  Philadelphia  ;  and  —  if  we  may  trust  the  cur- 
riculum of  the  infant  college  which  embraces  every  art 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     91 

and  every  science  —  the  theories  of  Mirania  were  put 
as  far  as  possible  into  practice. 

The  wisdom  of  Providence,  however,  has  placed  an 
insurmountable  barrier  between  such  theories  and  their 
accomplishment,  in  the  steady,  wholesome  resistance 
of  the  average  boy,  who  can  be  trusted  impli- 


"  WOODLANDS " 

After  an  old  painting 

citly  to  protect  himself  from  the  perils  of  over- 
instruction.  Girl  students  are  led  with  dangerous 
ease  over  the  thorny  paths  where  knowledge  stalks 
unchecked ;  but  the  stolid  sanity  of  the  boy  stays 
his  footsteps  in  good  time,  and  frequently  a  little 
earlier  than  need  be.  The  lads  who  thronged  with 
cheerful  tumult  and  confusion  into  the  old  collegiate 


92  PHILADELPHIA 

rooms  on  Fourth  Street  resembled  but  indifferently 
their  Miranian  models,  and  learned  only  as  much  of 
the  abundance  that  was  offered  as  it  was  wise  and 
well  for  them  to  know. 

It  seemed  inevitable  that  the  college,  though  priding 
itself  originally  on  its  purely  liberal  basis,  should 
gravitate  towards  the  Episcopal  and  proprietary  party. 
Where  should  it  have  turned,  if  not  to  its  friends 
and  supporters?  The  Penns,  recognizing  it  as  an 
able  ally,  gave  liberally  out  of  their  abundance  to 
its  needs ;  and  when  Dr.  Smith  went  to  England  to 
collect  funds,  he  naturally  addressed  himself  to  digni- 
taries of  his  own  church.  The  long  list  of  clergymen, 
bishops,  archbishops,  and  peers  who  swiftly  responded 
to  his  appeal,  proves  the  generous  interest  taken  by 
the  English  establishment  in  the  little  colonial  college ; 
and  the  great  universities  of  England  held  out  helping 
hands  to  their  small  sister  over  the  seas,  who  was 
battling  against  heavy  odds  for  life. 

For  the  Quakers  wrere  disposed  to  look  askance 
upon  Mirania,  and  the  learned  Dr.  Smith,  being  the 
most  belligerent  of  men,  took  infinite  pains  to  arouse 
their  resentment  and  animosity.  After  Braddock's* 
defeat  had  awakened  Pennsylvania  to  a  sense  of 
mingled  shame  and  apprehension,  he  published  two 
pamphlets,  charging  the  Assembly  with  supine  cow- 
ardice and  neglect  of  its  duties.  The  Indian  massa- 
cres, in  his  opinion,  were  due  wholly  to  the  Quakers 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     93 

and  their  abominable  religion,  which  left  the  prov- 
ince at  the  mercy  of  savages.  It  would  be  well,  he 
gently  asserted,  to  stamp  this  religion  from  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  to  drive  the  Quakers  from  their 
places  of  authority,  —  or,  if  necessary,  cut  their 
throats.  These  Rienzi-like  sentiments  from  a  young 
man  of  twenty-nine  were  hardly  calculated  to  soften 
the  hearts  of  his  opponents ;  and  when  he  followed 
them  up  by  enthusiastically  supporting  the  seditious 
utterances  of  William  Moore,  the  Assembly  exerted 
its  "  tyrannous  power,"  and  clapped  him  into  jail  for 
libel. 

This  was  a  serious  drawback  to  the  prosperity  of 
the  college,  but  a  magnificent  opportunity  for  the 
warlike  and  oratorical  provost.  He  made  the  most 
of  it !  The  day  of  his  trial  was  one  of  profound 
and  delightful  excitement.  Dr.  Smith  in  heroic 
periods  defied  the  Assembly,  refused  to  retract  his 
statements,  demanded  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus*  and 
swore  that  he  would  appeal  to  the  crown.  Storms 
of  applause  greeted  him  from  his  friends  ;  but  the 
unmoved  Assembly  remanded  him  to  prison,  where 
he  remained,  at  some  inconvenience  to  himself  and 
others,  for  eleven  weeks.  The  trustees  of  the  college 
ordered  that  his  classes  should  attend  him  there  at 
their  usual  hours,  and  the  enthusiastic  students  had 
the  supreme  felicity  of  swarming  into  the  jail,  and 
manifesting  the  exuberance  of  their  zeal.  It  was  a 


94  PHILADELPHIA 

trifle  demoralizing  perhaps,  and  hardly  conducive  to 
the  calm  acquisition  of  knowledge  ;  nothing  of  the 
kind  had  ever  happened  in  Mirania  ;  but  for  pure 
enjoyment  it  surpassed  any  diversion  offered  to  the 
Miranian  youths. 

The  provost  wrote  joyously  to  the  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don that  his  cell  was  crowded  with  visitors  from 
morning  to  night,  and  that  he  transacted  there  all 
the  important  business  of  the  college.  In  fact,  those 
who  suffer  persecution  for  justice'  sake  do  not  always 
have  to  wait  for  another  world  in  which  to  meet 
with  their  reward.  They  are  apt  to  get  a  large  in- 
stalment of  it  here.  Love  and  fame  stand  at  the 
martyr's  door.  An  interesting  young  woman  gave 
her  heart  to  the  captive  scholar,  and  promptly  mar- 
ried him.  When  released  from  prison  for  the  second 
time,  for  he  had  been  rearrested  after  his  first  dis- 
charge, he  sailed  for  England,  and  was  received  with 
that  sympathy  and  admiration  which  every  nation 
is  so  swift  to  manifest  for  another  nation's  ill-used 
patriots.  The  Church  recognized  in  him  a  champion 
of  the  faith  whom  the  tyrannous  Quakers  had  sig- 
nally failed  to  subdue.  Oxford  and  Aberdeen  granted 
him  degrees.  London  gave  him  dinners  and  applause. 
His  appeal  to  the  Privy  Council  met  with  supreme 
success.  The  Assembly  was  censured  for  its  uncon- 
stitutional disregard  of  a  subject's  rights  and  privi- 
leges, and,  when  Dr.  Smith  returned  to  Philadelphia, 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN   THE  QUAKER   CITY     95 

it  was  as  a  justified  and  triumphant  man.  The  epi- 
sode had  sadly  disturbed  the  serenity  and  the  utility 
of  the  college  ;  but  it  brought  unqualified  satisfac- 
tion to  the  provost,  and  heartened  him  for  fresh 
crusades. 

It  was  a  period  of  strange  hostilities.  The  vain 
attempt  to  abolish  the  proprietorship  left  the  province 
sullen  and  disturbed.  The  coming  of  the  Revolution 
threw  its  mighty  shadow  over  the  hearts  of  men,  and 
they  wrangled  bitterly,  filled  with  mistrust  and  anger. 
In  the  first  meetings  held  by  prominent  citizens  of 
Philadelphia  to  express  sympathy  for  poor  locked-up 
Boston,  we  find  the  college  provost  emphatically  assert- 
ing the  indefeasible  right  of  the  colonies  to  vote  their 
own  supplies,  —  a  right  which  they  would  never  aban- 
don. His  seemed  a  voice  destined  to  uphold  the  cause 
of  freedom,  and  help  an  injured  people  to  rebel ;  but 
the  overwhelming  speed  with  which  rebellion,  once  set 
going,  advanced,  disconcerted  him,  as  it  did  many  older 
and  wiser  men.  The  college,  moreover,  was  closely 
bound  to  England  by  ties  of  creed,  by  gratitude  for 
favours  given,  and  by  that  reverent  admiration  which 
every  little,  but  right-thinking,  school  feels  for  the 
great  universities,  which  stand  crowned  by  the  scholar- 
ship of  the  past,  rich  with  the  inheritance  of  the 
centuries.  It  was  a  loyal  college  ever ;  loyal  to  its 
own  traditions,  but  more  loyal  still  to  the  claims  of 
the  commonwealth  which  were  stronger  tjaan  any 


96  PHILADELPHIA 

tradition.  The  stormy  years  of  revolutionary  war 
were  ill  adapted  for  the  advancement  of  education  ; 
but  the  triumph  of  the  Constitutionalists  should 
have  meant  protection  and  safety  for  Philadelphia's 
scholars.  This  was  what  Franklin  strove  in  vain  to 
insure  by  a  clause  in  the  new  Constitution,  providing 
that  all  schools  and  all  churches  should  be  left  in 
undisturbed  possession  of  their  privileges.  What 
really  happened  is  almost  too  scandalous  to  be  told. 
The  Assembly,  composed  now  of  extremists  under  the 
leadership  of  Reed,  professed  to  doubt  the  patriotism 
of  an  institution  which  had  never  failed  in  respect  and 
obedience  to  the  national  government,  and  which  had 
for  its  trustees  men  like  Robert  Morris  and  James 
Wilson,  who  had  signed  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, and  striven  unceasingly  for  the  freedom  and  the 
honour  of  their  land.  In  1779  the  college  charter  was 
declared  void,  the  Faculty  was  dissolved  after  the  par- 
liamentary fashion  of  Cromwell,  and  the  property  was 
handed  over  to  new  trustees,  with  directions  to  found 
a  brand-new  alma  mater,  which  was  to  be  modestly  en- 
titled, "  The  University  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania." 
It  was  an  act  of  spoliation,  without  excuse  and  with- 
out redress.  Its  immediate  result  was  the  collapse  of 
education  in  Philadelphia.  The  old  college,  deprived 
of  charter,  roof -tree,  and  funds,  refused  to  die  peaceably 
when  requested,  but  struggled  on,  crippled  and  well- 
nigh  useless.  Its  provost,  whose  heroic  pluck  would 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     97 

never  allow  him  to  know  when  he  was  beaten,  retired 
to  Maryland,  only  to  plan  fresh  campaigns  for  the 
future.  The  new  "University"  found  its  honours 
heavy  to  bear,  and  its  task  impossible  of  performance. 
The  magnificent  title  mocked  the  feebleness  of  its 
intellect,  the  inadequacy  of  its  work.  Poor  minion 
of  fortune,  it  could  not  even  rely  upon  its  own  friends. 
After  nine  years,  the  Assembly  which  had  bidden  it 
live,  took  from  it  all  means  of  livelihood.  The  act  of 
1779  was  pronounced  "  repugnant  to  justice,  and  a 
violation  of  the  Constitution  of  the  Commonwealth." 
The  property  was  handed  ruthlessly  back  to  its  rightful 
owner,  the  old  College  of  Philadelphia,  and  Provost 
Smith,  victorious  and  elate,  took  his  place  at  the  head 
of  the  institution. 

But  not  for  long.  There  could  be  no  stability  any- 
where amid  such  hopeless  elements  of  disorder.  As 
the  strife  of  factions  ran  higher  and  higher,  scholarship 
sank  lower  and  lower.  The  college  and  the  university 
stood  side  by  side,  weakened  and  well-nigh  weaponless. 
They  could  do  nothing  worth  the  doing  apart,  and  it 
was  hoped  they  might  accomplish  something  together. 
With  the  consent  of  the  Legislature,  a  union  was 
effected  in  1791 ;  the  simple  old  name  was  abandoned 
in  favour  of  the  more  aspiring  designation  ;  and  the 
trustees  were  impartially  selected  from  every  con- 
testing clique  and  party  the  city  could  afford,  in  the 
hope,  as  Mr.  Sydney  Fisher  aptly  expresses  it,  "that 


98  PHILADELPHIA 

the  more  dissimilar  and  disunited  they  were,  the  more 
they  would  work  in  harmony."  Dr.  Smith  disappeared 
forever  from  the  collegiate  halls,  and  education  de- 
parted with  him.  Mirania  was  no  more,  and,  in  her 
place,  an  enfeebled  school,  calling  itself  a  university, 
struggled  for  existence,  and  graduated  a  pitiful  hand- 
ful of  students  every  year.  Only  the  medical  depart- 
ment, established  in  1765,  was  strong  enough  to  resist 
the  dismal  influence  of  the  times ;  and  through  the 
unceasing  efforts  of  Dr.  Shippen,  Dr.  Rush,  Dr. 
Wistar,  and  other  physicians  of  distinction,  advanced 
steadily  step  by  step  to  the  splendid  future  that 
awaited  it.  In  medicine  and  surgery  Philadelphia 
always  claimed  preeminence,  and  her  doctors  to-day 
need  look  back  upon  no  period  of  their  history  with 
shame  in  their  hearts  for  its  dishonourable  inactivity. 
But  it  was  not  until  after  the  Civil  War  that  the  Uni- 
versity began  slowly  to  raise  its  downcast  head,  that 
head  now  held  aloft  in  conscious  and  justifiable  ela- 
tion. In  1871,  one  of  Franklin's  early  "  Proposals " 
was  realized  in  part  by  the  erection  of  the  new  college 
buildings  in  West  Philadelphia ;  where,  if  no  green 
meadows  and  fruitful  orchards  win  the  students  from 
their  books,  and  no  river  rolls  invitingly  under  col- 
legiate windows,  there  is  at  least  a  campus  and  a  little 
breathing  space,  turf  under  foot,  and  blue  sky  over- 
head. In  these  buildings,  which  from  year  to  year  have 
received  important  additions,  the  college  which  has 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QUAKER   CITY     99 

passed  through  so  many  vicissitudes,  so  many  changes 
of  scene  and  fortune,  has  at  last  fulfilled  the  proudest 
hopes  of  those  who  first  sped  her  on  her  way  for  the 
help  and  enlightenment  of  posterity. 

Six  years  before  the  ever  famous  "Proposals"  saw 
the  light  of  day,  another  and  very  different  scheme  of 
education  was  being  slowly  shaped  into  action  by  the 
resistless  energy  of  Franklin.  In  1743  he  conceived 
the  admirable  idea  of  forming  a  society  "  for  promoting 
useful  knowledge  among  the  British  plantations  in 
America,"  or,  in  other  words,  for  connecting  the  aspir- 
ing science  of  the  New  World  with  the  supercilious 
science  of  the  Old.  The  members  of  this  society  were 
naturally  chosen  from  the  "  Junto,"  a  club  organized 
by  Franklin  "for  mutual  improvement,"  when  he  was 
but  twenty-one  years  old.  The  Junto  was  a  serious 
club,  not  given  to  youthful  frivolities,  still  less  to 
youthful  indiscretions.  It  met,  indeed,  in  a  tavern ; 
but  the  members  asked  each  other  difficult  questions, 
such  as  "  Is  there  any  essential  difference  between  the 
electric  fluid  and  elementary  fire  ?  "  or  "  What  becomes 
of  the  water  constantly  flowing  into  the  Mediter- 
ranean?" and  took  a  sincere  pleasure  in  endeavouring 
to  answer  them.  In  fact,  they  solemnly  promised,  on 
admission,  not  only  to  love  truth  for  truth's  sake,  but 
to  receive  it  impartially  themselves,  and  to  communi- 
cate it  industriously  to  others. 

Here  was  exactly  the  material  needed  by  Franklin 


100 


PHILADELPHIA 


for  the  formation  of  a  Philosophical  Society.  Young 
men  who  diverted  themselves  in  this  exemplary  manner 
were  surely  born  to  be  philosophers.  Nevertheless, 
the  old  Junto  did  not,  as  is  commonly  supposed,  melt 


DOORWAYS   IN   PINK   STREET 


at  once  into  the  new  organization.  It  held  together 
as  a  club  until  1766,  when  it  became  the  formidable 
"American  Society  for  promoting  and  propagating 
Useful  Knowledge ;  "  and  it  was  not  until  three  years 
later  that  the  Philosophical  Society  and  the  American 
Society  united  their  forces,  and  became  one.  Franklin 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN  THE  QVAREK 

was  elected  the  first  president  of  the  combined  fraterni- 
ties, and  held  that  position  until  his  death.  Richard 
Penn,  the  most  affable  of  the  proprietors,  consented  to 
act  as  patron.  The  Quaker  Assembly  looked  with 
favour  upon  philosophers  who  proposed  to  push  their 
investigations  into  practical  matters,  and  who,  in  the 
intervals  of  discussing  the  best  form  of  government, 
or  the  secret  of  happiness,  were  not  above  a  care  for 
smoky  chimneys,  and  a  farmer-like  regard  for  manures. 
In  fact,  "  the  useful  science  of  agriculture  "  occupied  a 
great  deal  of  "their  leisure  and  attention.  Franklin's 
enthusiasm  for  rice  equalled  Napoleon's  for  beets,  or 
Edmund  Burke's  for  carrots.  Thomas  Jefferson,  who 
was  at  one  time  president  of  the  philosophers  as  well 
as  of  the  United  States,  designed  a  model  plough, 
almost  as  good  in  its  way  as  Franklin's  model  stove. 
The  Assembly  generously  voted  a  thousand  pounds  to 
assist  the  Society  in  planting  mulberry  trees  for  the 
benefit  of  silkworms,  which  were  to  be  invited  to 
emigrate  to  the  New  World  and  feed  on  them. 

"  Botany,  medicine,  mineralogy,  chemistry,  mining, 
mechanics,  arts,  trades,  manufactures,  geography,  and 
topography,"  also  appear  on  the  list  of  subjects  to  be 
studied  and  discussed  ;  yet,  even  under  this  severe  pres- 
sure of  erudition,  the  genial  philosophers  found  time  to 
give  themselves,  and  occasionally  their  neighbours,  very 
good  dinners,  and  to  turn  their  minds  to  the  considera- 
tion of  those  practical  details  which  philosophy  is  wont 


'IQ2  .PHILADELPHIA 

to  ignore,  but  upon  which  the  comfort  of  colonial  life 
was  largely  dependent.  This  was  in  keeping  with 
Franklin's  character,  and  avowed  inclinations.  "  No 
other  writer,"  says  Mr.  MacMaster,  "has  pointed  out  so 
clearly  the  way  to  obtain  the  greatest  amount  of  com- 
fort out  of  life ;  "  and  the  old  panegyrist  who  penned 
this  glowing  tribute, — 

"  Immortal  Franklin,  whose  unwearied  mind 
Still  sought  out  every  good  for  all  mankind ; 
Searched  every  science,  studious  still  to  know, 
To  make  men  virtuous,  and  to  keep  them  so," 

would  have  been  nearer  the  mark  if  he  had  written 
the  last  line,  — 

"  To  make  men  prosperous,  and  to  keep  them  so." 

To  increase  the  comfort  and  prosperity,  as  well 
as  the  scholarship  of  the  province,  was  the  laudable 
ambition  of  the  Philosophical  Society.  Its  members, 
drawn  from  every  creed  and  every  rank  of  life,  present 
a  curious  medley  of  colonial  pundits.  David  Ritten- 
house,  the  astronomer,  who  succeeded  Franklin  as 
president;  ex-governor  Hamilton,  the  distinguished 
leader  of  the  proprietary  party  ;  and  Brother  Jabetz, 
Prior  of  the  Ephrata  cloister,  who  was  wont  to  walk 
eighty  miles,  it  is  said,  to  attend  the  meetings,  and 
whose  tall  spare  figure  in  flowing  robe,  girt  by  a 
hempen  cord,  added  a  charming  element  of  pictu- 
resqueness,  as  well  as  a  flavour  of  asceticism  which 


BIRTH  OF  LEARNING  IN   THE  QUAKER   CITY     103 

seemed  just  what  the  philosophers  required.  It  was 
this  unworldly  monk  who,  after  the  Revolution,  trans- 
lated the  Declaration  of  Independence  into  seven 
languages,  and  proved  himself  of  great  service  to  the 
State  in  reading  diplomatic  correspondence.  Tradition 
says  that  for  all  this  work,  he  never  demanded,  and 
alas !  never  received  a  penny  of  pay  from  a  too  thrifty 
government.  The  Prior,  however  often  he  may  have 
walked  the  eighty  miles,  had  neglected  to  learn  one 
important  lesson  from  the  lips  of  Franklin,  who  would 
have  taught  him  plainly  that  the  labourer  is  worthy  of 
his  hire. 

The  first  momentous  task  undertaken  by  the  Philo- 
sophical Society  was  the  scientific  observation  of  the 
transit  of  Venus,  in  1769.  This  was  an  enterprise  re- 
quiring a  large  expenditure  of  money,  as  well  as  the 
closest  care  and  calculation ;  but  it  was  the  looked-for 
opportunity  for  the  colonial  scientists  to  associate  them- 
selves with  the  scientists  of  Europe,  and  to  add  their 
quota  to  the  accurate  information  of  the  world.  Ob- 
servatories were  erected  in  Philadelphia,  in  Norristown, 
and  at  Cape  Henlopen.  The  Assembly  voted  one  hun- 
dred pounds  for  the  purchase  of  a  telescope.  Thomas 
Penn  sent  a  second  admirable  telescope  from  England. 
The  day  of  the  transit,  June  third,  was  one  of  unbroken 
clearness  and  brilliancy,  nature  having  abandoned  her 
usual  perversity  for  this  ever  memorable  occasion ;  and 
the  observations  taken  were  so  completely  successful 


104  PHILADELPHIA 

that  Dr.  Maskelyne,  the  astronomer  royal,  pronounced 
them  enthusiastically  to  be  an  honour  to  Pennsylvania, 
and  to  all  the  learned  gentlemen  whose  indefatigable  * 
exertions  had  accomplished  this  splendid  result. 

With  the  approach  of  war,  the  zeal  of  the  philoso- 
phers for  scientific  research  grew  visibly  less.  •  It  was 
not  a  time  for  study ;  and  during  three  tumultuous 
years  the  Society  never  held  a  single  meeting.  Its 
members  were  mostly  occupied  in  making  history, 
and  had  scant  leisure  for  the  calm  pursuit  of  agricul- 
ture or  astronomy.  On  the  fifth  of  March,  1779,  they 
reassembled  to  gather  up  the  broken  threads  of  their 
past  work  ;  and  a  year  later  they  were  granted  their 
first  charter,  and  a  lot  of  ground  adjoining  the  State 
House  on  which  to  build  a  hall.  In  1787  this  hall  was 
completed,  and  still  stands  undesecrated,  save  in  a  few 
details,  by  modern  renovations.  Here  on  their  dusty 
shelves  are  the  ancient  volumes  which  Franklin  and 
Rittenhouse  handled ;  here  are  many  curious  relics  of 
the  Society's  vigorous  youth,  and  of  days  so  long  past 
we  have  well-nigh  forgotten  the  lessons  that  they 
taught  us.  In  one  of  these  beautiful  rooms  Wash- 
ington was  painted  by  the  three  Peales,  and  the 
historic  mantel-shelf  which  forms  the  background  of 
the  portrait  has  now,  alas  !  been  dug  from  the  wall, 
and  banished  as  lumber  to  the  cellar.  When  La 
Fayette  returned  to  America,  the  Philosophical  Society 
entertained  him  under  its  own  roof-tree,  and  Mr. 


BIRTU   OF  LEARNING   IN    THE  QUAKER   CITY     105 

Charles  Ingersoll  delivered  an  address  of  such  flat- 
tering eloquence  that  it  would  have  abashed  Napoleon, 
and  made  Caesar  blush  beneath  his  civic  wreath,  though, 
to  the  insatiable  vanity  of  the  genial  Frenchman,  it 
was  probably  no  more  than  a  bare  recognition  of  his 
merits. 

Among  the  philosophers  may  be  found  long  lists  of 
distinguished  names,  both  European  and  American. 
Noah  Webster,  Washington  Irving,  George  Bancroft, 
Dr.  Holmes,  James  Russell  LoAvell,  Louis  Agassiz,  and 
Joseph  Leidy  were  members.  Even  women  are  not 
altogether  lacking  from  the  rolls.  Mrs.  Somerville, 
Mrs.  Agassiz,  and  Mrs.  Seiler  were  elected  as  valued 
members ;  and  also  that  very  different  exponent  of 
feminine  scholarship,  rich  in  knowledge  and  in  many 
experiences,  the  Princess  Daschkof.  The  Empress 
was  not  pleased  at  her  favourite's  acceptance  of  the 
proffered  honour.  Catherine  the  Second  never  liked 
Benjamin  Franklin,  and  had  scant  tolerance  for  his 
philosophy.  She  refused  coldly  to  receive  him,  and 
refused  to  give  any  reason  for  her  denial.  It  was  not 
for  the  ruler  of  all  the  Russias  to  cheapen  her  deeds 
with  reasons.  "  I  do  not  care  for  him,"  was  the  only 
opinion  she  ever  vouchsafed.  The  same  imperial  and 
comprehensive  criticism  was  passed  by  Elizabeth  of 
England  upon  John  Knox,  when  she  forbade  him  Eng- 
lish soil. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  STATE   HOUSE  AND  ITS  MESSAGE 

rpHE  birth  of  law  in  Philadelphia  was  as  modest 
as  the  birth  of  learning,  at  least  so  far  as  out- 
ward circumstances  were  concerned.  When  Penn 
returned  for  the  first  time  to  England  in  1684,  he 
left  the  little  Letitia  House  to  his  secretary,  Mark- 
ham,  and  directed  that  it  should  be  at  the  service  of 
the  Provincial  Council.  The  wine  and  beer  stored 
in  the  cellar  were  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the 
deputy  governor,  Thomas  Lloyd,  "for  the  use  of 

106 


THE  STATE  HOUSE  AND  ITS  MESSAGE         107 

strangers,"  a  kindly  and  hospitable  thought.  Penn's 
periwigs,  which  were  of  the  finest  order,  were  also 
consigned  to  the  care  of  Lloyd,  who  was  permitted 
to  wear  them  during  their  owner's  absence,  and  had, 
as  it  chanced,  an  admirable  opportunity  to  wear 
them  out  in  the  fifteen  years  that  followed.  The 
Letitia  House  was,  accordingly,  for  some  time  the 
State  House  of  the  province ;  and  in  its  small,  low- 
ceilinged  rooms  the  men  who  carried  their  country's 
cares  upon  their  shoulders  met  in  anxious  delibera- 
tion. Four  years  later,  we  find  Penn  writing  that  he 
fears  the  cottage  is  too  contracted  for  such  a  pur- 
pose, and  that  the  Council  should  have  a  building 
fitted  to  its  needs.  The  Council  thought  otherwise. 
Debt  was  a  thing  its  members  abhorred  as  only 
Quakers  can,  and  money  was  hard  to  find  in  the 
prosperous  little  colony,  already  drained  of  gold  by 
the  number  and  variety  of  its  imports.  So  for 
twenty -five  years  the  lawmakers  of  the  province 
met  wherever  they  could  find  accommodation,  — 
under  the  roofs  of  private  citizente,  in  schoolrooms, 
and  in  the  Quaker  meeting-house.  Those  were 
primitive,  almost  Arcadian  days,  when  the  character 
of  public  men,  and  the  nature  of  the  laws  they  en- 
acted, were  deemed  of  greater  importance  than  stone 
walls,  marble  floors,  and  upholstery.  The  country 
court-house,  the  "  Towne  House "  as  it  was  called, 
was  finished  in  1709,  and  in  this  unpretentious  little 


108 


PHILADELPHIA 


building  the  Colonial  Assembly  and  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  province  held  their  sessions.  It  was 
not  until  the  issue  of  paper  currency  made  money 


THE  "  TOWNE  HOUSE  " 

seem  more  abundant,  and  relaxed  the  vigilant  econ- 
omy of  our  forefathers,  that  Philadelphia  aspired  to 
a  State  House  of  her  own  ;  and  even  after  two 
thousand  pounds  had  been  appropriated  to  this  pur- 
pose in  1729,  the  work  proceeded  very  slowly,  and 


THE  STATE  HOUSE  AND  ITS  MESSAGE         109 

with  a  due  regard  to  the  reluctance  of  tax-payers, — 
a  class  of  people  who,  however  contumeliously  they 
may  be  treated  now,  were  then  held  in  the  greatest 
consideration  and  esteem. 

In  1735  the  Assembly  met  for  the  first  time  in  the 
new  State  House,  which  was  still  far  from  finished. 
The  great  chamber  now  known  as  Independence 
Hall  was  not  completed  until  seven  years  later ;  the 
modest  wooden  steeple  was  not  added  until  1751. 
A  bell  was  felt  to  be  an  imperative  necessity,  and 
was  ordered  forthwith  from  England,  its  cost  not  to 
exceed  two  hundred  pounds.  It  was  cast  in  White- 
chapel,  and  around  its  sides  ran  the  prophetic  words, 
"  Proclaim  Liberty  throughout  all  the  Land,  to  all 
the  Inhabitants  thereof."  This  English  bell,  to  the 
bitter  disappointment  of  the  colonists,  was  cracked 
at  its  first  trial  by  a  stroke  of  its  own  clapper,  and 
had  to  be  recast  in  Philadelphia  before  it  was  hung 
honourably  in  the  little  steeple  which  had  been  built 
for  its  accommodation.  The  graceful  outlines  of 
the  State  House,  an  admirable  example  of  colonial 
architecture,  full  of  dignity,  and  with  an  exquisite 
sense  of  fitness  and  proportion,  were  rendered  still 
more  charming  to  the  eye  by  the  deep  green  of  the 
magnificent  trees  that  surrounded  it.  These  vet- 
erans of  the  primeval  forest,  the  last  survivors  in 
Philadelphia  of  the  mighty  woods  which  had  gained 
for  Pennsylvania  its  sylvan  name,  were  sacrificed, 


110  PHILADELPHIA 

one  by  one,  to  the  indifference  or  the  dislike  of  the 
colonists.  Penn  had  dearly  loved  the  deep  shadows 
of  their  spreading  branches.  He  had  hoped  and  de- 
sired that  his  settlers  would  spare  the  trees  when 
possible,  and  would  build  their  homes  at  reasonable 
distances,  "so  that  there  may  be  ground  on  each 
side  for  gardens  or  orchards,  and  that  the  town  may 
be  a  green  country  town,  which  will  never  be  burned, 
and  always  be  wholesome." 

But  the  early  Philadelphians  pressed  their  houses 
closer  and  closer  together,  and  they  cut  down  their 
beautiful  trees  to  economize  space,  or  under  the  strange 
pretext  of  guarding  "against  fire  and  stagnant  air." 
The  State  House  was  gradually  denuded  of  its  green 
girdle,  and  stood  bare  and  desolate  until  after  the 
Revolution  ;  when  more  room  was  added  to  its  shabby 
enclosure,  new  trees  were  planted,  new  walks  laid  out, 
a  new  brick  wall  built  to  protect  it  from  vulgar  intru- 
sion, and,  under  the  new  and  dignified  name  of  Inde- 
pendence Square,  the  old  State  House  yard  became 
for  a  few  years  a  fashionable  loitering-place,  upon 
whose  genteel  and  urban  charms  Philadelphia  poets 
wrote  stilted  verses  in  the  columns  of  the  local  press. 

There  were  other  and  far  different  scenes,  however, 
to  be  enacted  on  this  hallowed  ground  before  the 
citizens  of  the  young  Republic  had  leisure  for  sylvan 
strolls  and  verse-making.  No  building  in  the  United 
States  has  an  historic  interest  comparable  to  that  of 


THE  STATE  HOUSE  AND  ITS  MESSAGE        111 

the  Philadelphia  State  House,  the  birthplace  of  our 
national  life.  Its  venerable  walls  heard  the  vehement 
denunciations  hurled  against  the  Stamp  Act,  and  the 
still  more  vehement  resolutions  which  sent  Captain 
Ayres  and  his  ship-load  of  tea  back  to  the  port  of 


OLD    STATE   HOUSE 


London.  Here,  after  the  battle  of  Lexington,  as- 
sembled that  eager,  angry  crowd  who  expressed  the 
sentiments  of  the  whole  people  in  a  single  curt  resolu- 
tion, "  to  defend  with  arms  their  property,  liberty,  and 
lives."  Here  Washington  was  appointed,  by  the  second 
Continental  Congress,  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  ; 


112  PHILADELPHIA 

and  here  Richard  Henry  Lee  of  Virginia  moved  on  the 
seventh  of  June,  1776,  that  "  these  United  Colonies  are, 
and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States ; 
that  they  are  absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the 
British  Crown,  and  that  all  political  connection  be- 
tween them  and  the  state  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought 
to  be,  totally  dissolved." 

From  the  little  observatory,  the  "awful  platform," 
as  John  Adams  calls  it,  that  had  been  erected  in  the 
State  House  yard  for  the  peaceful  study  of  Venus, 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  read  aloud  to 
the  people  of  Philadelphia,  —  to  the  few  at  least  who 
gathered  to  hear  it,  and  by  whom  it  was  received  in 
serious  and  puzzled  silence.  The  dramatic  side  of  this 
great  historic  event  was  not,  as  has  been  often  ob- 
served, apparent  to  men  who  thought  less  of  the  docu- 
ment itself,  than  of  how  it  was  to  be  supported  and 
enforced.  They  had  thrilled  with  anger  and  pity 
when  Boston  called  to  them  for  help.  They  had 
exulted  jubilantly  over  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act, 
and  had  watched  with  proud  hearts  the  last  white  sail 
of  Captain  Ayres'  tea  ship,  Polly,  as  she  turned  sea- 
ward with  her  hated  cargo.  But  it  was  no  longer  a 
time  for  passing  resolutions,  and  rejecting  tea.  Grim 
war  was  at  their  doors,  and  the  horror  of  it  sobered 
their  enthusiasm,  and  chilled  the  first  wild  rapture  of 
defiance.  The  men  who  signed  their  names  to  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  realized  to  the  utmost  all 


THE  STATE  HOUSE  AND  ITS  MESSAGE 


113 


the  consequences  it  involved,  and  the  terrible  responsi- 
bility they  had  placed  upon  their  own  shoulders.  The 
State  House  bell  rang  out  its  message,  proclaiming  for 
the  first  time  "liberty  throughout  all  the  land,  to  all 
the  inhabitants  thereof";  but  the  people  listened 
gravely,  and  with  no  apparent  response.  Those  who 
knew  what  it  meant,  knew  also  that  liberty  is  not  to  be 
won  by  proclamation,  but  bought  with  the  life-blood 
of  brave  men  who  die  that  their  brothers  may  be  free. 


CASE  CONTAINING  ORIGINAL  OF  DECLARATION   OF  INDEPENDENCE 
I 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOW   THE   QUAKER   CITY   SPENT   ITS   MONEY 

"TjpOR  nearly  a  century  the  history  of  Philadelphia  is 
a  placid  record  of  unbroken  good  fortune.  The 
tireless  wrangling  of  two  great  conflicting  interests 
injured  the  province  very  little,  and  gave  her  that  most 
precious  boon,  —  a  standing  quarrel  which  could  be 
taken  up  by  the  combatants  whenever  they  had  leisure 
to  engage  in  it.  Had  the  Assembly  and  the  proprie- 
tary party  worked  together  in  accord,  the  colonists 
would  have  suffered  grievously  from  the  benumbing 
of  those  angry  passions  which  childhood  is  bidden  to 
restrain,  but  which  make  life  a  thing  of  abounding 
interest  to  healthily  contentious  men.  The  Indian 
wars,  though  they  cost  Pennsylvania  both  troops  and 
money,  left  the  city  undevastated  by  the  horrors  which 
dyed  deep  with  blood  the  annals  of  less  fortunate  com- 
munities. The  stubborn  and  conservative  Quakers 
guarded  their  town  —  Penn's  precious  legacy  —  with  a 
wise  watchfulness,  and  she  waxed  fairer  and  stronger 
every  year.  Her  prosperity  was  not,  indeed,  a  matter 
of  sudden  acquisition,  like  the  affluence  of  New  Zea- 
land, where,  Mr.  Froude  assures  us,  the  labourers  eat 

114 


HO W  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      115 

hot-house  grapes.  It  was  built  up  on  solid  foundations 
of  industry  and  thrift,  having  Franklin's  maxims  for 
its  week-day  sermons,  and  Franklin's  shining  example 
to  illustrate  the  text.  The  man  who  amassed  his  fort- 
une penny  by  penny,  and  retired  from  business  at  the 
early  age  of  forty-two,  with  a  modest  income  of  three 
thousand  dollars,  taught  his  neighbours  a  triple  lesson 
of  assiduity,  economy,  and  moderation,  It  is  only  to 
be  regretted  that  the  edifying  spectacle  of  colonial 
honour  and  enterprise  should  be  marred  by  the  dark 
shadow  of  privateering.  In  the  Spanish  war,  and  in 
King  George's  war,  the  virtuous  Quaker  City  sent  forth 
these  armed  marauders  to  snatch  what  prey  they  could  ; 
and  that  she  was  proud  of  their  success,  and  pointed 
them  out  with  elation  to  strangers  visiting  her  busy 
docks,  proves  the  exactness  of  Sydney  Smith's  cynical 
observation  anent  the  stanch  moral  support  to  be 
derived  from  the  most  dubious  of  theories. 

The  increasing  wealth  of  the  province  manifested 
itself  in  farmhouses  so  strongly  and  admirably  built 
that  time  leaves  no  impression  on  their  massive 
walls ;  in  country-seats  more  spacious  and  beautiful 
than  could  be  found  in  any  other  State  save  Virginia  ; 
in  the  fast-growing  luxury  of  town  life  ;  and  in  a 
sane  philanthropy,  devoid  of  whims  and  sentiment. 
The  charity  of  the  Quakers  has  always  extended  to 
the  bodies  as  well  as  to  the  souls  of  men.  In  1713, 
when  the  city  was  still  in  its  infancy,  they  built  "  for 


116 


PHILADELPHIA 


the  habitation  and  succour  of   the  poor  and  unfortu- 
nate," the  pretty  rural  cottages    long   known  as  the 


QUAKER  ALMSHOUSE 


Quaker  almshouses.      Each  cottage  had   its   patch   of 
ground,  where  the  aged  inmates  —  unshamed  by  the 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      117 

stigma  of  pauperism  —  cultivated  bright  flowers  and 
healing  herbs.  It  was  a  peaceful  haven,  affording, 
not  only  shelter,  but,  as  an  old  historian  earnestly 
assures  us,  "opportunities  for  study  and  meditation." 
We  smile  when  we  read  the  words,  but  we  sigh, 
too,  recalling  the  bleak  desolation,  the  abiding  horror 
of  a  modern  almshouse,  and  comparing  it  with  the 
decent  privacy  of  the  happier  poor  nearly  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  when  the  wisdom  of  our  forefathers 
drew  a  deep  line  of  distinction  between  the  old  and 
helpless,  "the  afflicted  of  God,"  and  the  sturdy  beg- 
gar or  shameless  wench,  for  whom  was  made  sharper 
and  sterner  provision.  It  is  to  the  Quaker  alms- 
house, 

"  Home  of  the  homeless, 

Then  in  the   suburbs  it  stood,  in  the   midst  of  meadows  and 
woodlands," 

that  tradition  points  as  the  final  meeting-place  of 
Gabriel  and  Evangeline;  and  antiquarians  who  dis- 
prove the  story  with  aggressive  and  importunate 
details  might  find  a  better  use  for  their  time  and 
knowledge.  In  the  graveyard  of  old  St.  Joseph's 
—  hidden  away  in  Willing's  Alley  from  the  wrath 
of  hostile  creeds  —  the  lovers  slept  side  by  side  •, 
and  the  clamour  of  a  great  city  echoed  but  faintly 
through  the  narrow,  walled-in  strip  of  consecrated 
ground,  where,  after  so  many  years  of  sorrowful 
wandering,  their  faithful  hearts  found  rest. 


118  PHILADELPHIA 

What  the  college  was  to  the  Episcopal  and  pra 
prietary  party  in  Philadelphia,  the  Pennsylvania  Hos- 
pital was  to  the  Quakers,  —  a  party  stronghold,  as 
well  as  a  cherished  and  admirably  administered  insti- 
tution. On  its  ancient  corner-stone  was  cut  deep 
this  cheerful  and  devout  inscription :  — 

"In  the  year  of  Christ  MDCCLV, 
George  the  second  happily  reigning, 
(For  he  sought  the  happiness  of  his  people) 
Philadelphia  flourishing, 
(For  its  inhabitants  were  public-spirited) 

This  Building 

By  the  bounty  of  the  government, 
And  of  many  private  persons, 

Was  piously  founded 
For  the  relief  of  the  sick  and  the  miserable. 

May  the  God  of  Mercies  bless  the  undertaking." 

Of  the  public  spirit  here  gratefully  commemorated, 
the  erection  of  this  hospital  gives  abiding  proof. 
When,  in  1750,  Dr.  Thomas  Bond  and  a  few  chari- 
table citizens  realized  the  necessity  of  providing 
shelter  for  "sick  and  distempered  strangers,"  their 
appeal  for  funds  met  with  an  immediate  response. 
The  Assembly  voted  at  different  times  five  thousand 
pounds  to  help  them  with  the  work.  All  classes 
endeavoured  honestly  to  assist.  An  especial  sub- 
scription was  asked  from  "rich  widows  and  other 
single  women,"  and  they  answered  nobly  by  raising 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      119 

a  fund  sufficient  for  the  purchase  of  drugs.  Al- 
though most  of  the  money  came  from  the  .Quakers, 
who  kept  the  hospital  always  under  their  control, 
yet  other  churches  contributed  with  amazing  gener- 
osity. The  pious  free-lance,  Whitefield,  collected, 
after  an  ardent  and  persuasive  sermon,  one  hundred 
and  seventy  pounds.  England,  ever  liberal  to  colo- 
nial charities,  lent  such  material  aid  that  the  directors 
found  their  burden  almost  easy  to  bear.  An  Act  of 
Parliament  gave  to  the  hospital  all  the  unclaimed 
funds  remaining  in  the  hands  of  the  trustees  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Land  Company  in  London,  and  this 
extraordinary  windfall  amounted  to  thirteen  thousand 
pounds.  The  Proprietors,  Thomas  and  Richard  Penn, 
gave  a  portion  of  the  land  on  which  the  building  was 
erected,  and  an  annuity  of  forty  pounds  a  year. 
Finally,  Dr.  John  Fothergill  of  London  sent  a  beau- 
tifully articulated  human  skeleton,  and  so  admir- 
able a  collection  of  anatomical  models  and  drawings 
that  the  thrifty  Friends  refused  to  exhibit  them 
gratuitously  to  the  public.  They  were  placed  in  a 
room  apart,  and  Dr.  Shippen  explained  them  learn- 
edly every  other  Saturday  afternoon  to  such  seek- 
ers after  knowledge  as  were  willing  to  pay  a  dollar 
for  its  acquisition. 

It  does  not  surprise  us  to  find  the  name  of  Benjamin 
Franklin  on  the  first  board  of  managers.  In  point  of 
fact,  a  Philadelphia  board  of  managers  which  did  not 


120  PHILADELPHIA 

include  Franklin  would  have  been  as  great  an  anomaly 
as  a  Roman  or  a  Florentine  church  without  a  trace  of 
Michelangelo.  It  was  Franklin  who  drew  up  the  very 
sensible  rules  for  the  direction  of  the  hospital,  Franklin 
who  was  elected  president  of  the  board  in  1756,  and 
Franklin  who  characteristically  proposed  the  distribu- 
tion of  tin  boxes,  lettered  in  gold,  "  Charity  for  the 
Hospital/'  and  destined  to  receive  the  chance  donations 
of  benevolent  friends  and  visitors.  A  penny  given 
was  a  penny  made,  and  the  yearly  reports  of  the  insti- 
tution show  how  much  of  its  income  was  derived  from 
the  small  contributions  of  well-wishers  whose  narrow 
means  forbade  a  larger  dole.  Gifts  of  various  kinds 
were  proffered  by  prominent  citizens ;  among  them  a 
second  skeleton  (skeletons  were  rare  enough  to  be 
held  in  high  esteem)  which,  being  presented  by  Miss 
Deborah  Morris,  after  the  death  of  her  brother,  Dr. 
Benjamin  Morris,  was,  we  are  assured,  "  gratefully 
received,  and  honourably  deposited  in  the  apothecary's 
shop." 

The  site  on  which  the  hospital  was  erected — not 
without  long  contention,  for  the  Proprietors  had  wished 
to  donate  a  less  available  piece  of  ground — was  ad- 
mirably chosen,  and  the  building  itself,  like  all  other 
important  buildings  of  the  time,  is  a  model  of  dignified 
simplicity,  finely  proportioned,  and  free  from  meretri- 
cious decoration.  It  is  well  for  us  who  live  in  an  age 
of  over-ornamentation  that  we  can  rest  our  weary 


>  »>) '•'  '•     t'«,         fl-I^.  -'     ! 

^•£?  '         |iv»  F 

V.S^U     Af,.,. 


;r.Kr  '^^ffiw 


122  PHILADELPHIA 

eyes  upon  the  graceful  severity  of  colonial  architecture 
where  nothing  needless  can  be  found.  The  ample 
lawn  was  shaded  by  two  rows  of  beautiful  trees 
planted  by  Hugh  Roberts,  one  of  the  first  managers, 
in  1756,  and  among  them  grew  and  flourished  a  scion 
of  the  famous  Treaty  Elm,  pleasantly  refuting  the 
slanderous  tongues  which  mocked  that  historic  monu- 
ment, that  mute  witness  of  a  nation's  peace. 

The  prosperity  of  the  hospital  was  unbroken,  its 
efficiency  unimpaired,  until  the  dark  days  which  fol- 
lowed the  Revolution,  when  the  terrible  depreciation 
of  the  currency,  the  chaotic  confusion  of  the  public 
service,  and  the  determination  of  the  legislature  to  tax 
charitable  institutions,  crippled  and  well-nigh  ruined 
it.  Resolute  labour  and  resolute  resistance  on  the  part 
of  the  managers  averted  the  impending  shipwreck,  but 
years  dragged  by  before  the  old  sphere  of  quiet  useful- 
ness was  even  partially  regained.  It  is  pleasant  to 
record  that  at  this  juncture  the  First  Troop  of  Phila- 
delphia City  Cavalry  gave  to  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital 
the  entire  sum  received  by  it  for  services  during  the 
Revolutionary  war ;  and  the  maternity  ward  for  poor 
married  women  was  built  and  endowed  with  this 
money.  A  very  different,  but  equally  welcome  donation 
was  the  picture  of  "  Christ  Healing  the  Sick,"  which 
Benjamin  West  generously  presented  to  the  institution 
in  1817,  and  which  awakened  such  enthusiasm  in  the 
hearts  of  our  uncritical  grandfathers  that  the  adroit 


HOW  THE  QUAKER  CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      123 

managers  of  the  hospital  —  mindful  still  of  Dr.  Frank- 
lin's maxims  —  placed  it  on  exhibition,  and  realized 
nearly  twenty  thousand  dollars  from  the  eager  crowds 


A  BIT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  HOSPITAL 


who  ihronged  to  see  it.  The  big  canvas  is  a  replica 
of  the  painting  originally  intended  by  West  for  Phila- 
delphia; but  which,  when  it  was  seen  in  London, 


124  PHILADELPHIA 

excited,  we  are  told,  "  such  a  glow  of  admiration  that 
nobles  and  commons,  rich  and  poor,  united  in  the  de- 
termination to  retain  it  in  the  country."  Verily,  an 
artist  so  blessed  by  the  patronage,  so  burdened  by  the 
praises  of  his  own  generation,  might  well  aif ord  indif- 
ference to  the  acrimonious  verdicts  of  posterity. 

It  was  not  in  philanthropy  alone,  in  the  building  of 
almshouses,  libraries  and  hospitals,  that  the  rich  colo- 
nists of  the  Quaker  City  found  a  use  for  their  ample 
incomes.  They  spent  their  money,  after  a  reasonable 
fashion,  upon  creature  comforts,  and  in  moderate  dis- 
play. Within  their  red  brick  houses,  "  stately  and  three 
stories  high,  in  the  mode  of  London,"  writes  Gabriel 
Thomas  as  early  as  1696,  reigned  security  and  modest 
affluence.  Balconies  and  sun-dials  lent  to  these  demure 
homes  an  occasional  air  of  gayety  and  picturesqueness. 
"  Every  necessary  for  the  Support  of  Life  throughout 
the  whole  Year,"  might  be  found  in  the  far-famed 
Philadelphia  markets ;  and,  if  we  may  trust  the  evi- 
dence of  colonial  letters  and  diaries,  more  ingenuous 
and  less  jubilant  as  a  rule  than  colonial  chroniclers, 
our  forefathers  heartily  enjoyed  the  good  things  which 
Providence  had  kindly  placed  at  their  disposal.  In 
the  published  journal  of  Jacob  Hiltzheimer,  who  lived 
to  see  the  Revolution,  and  was  apparently  but  little 
interested  in  that  great  crisis,  we  find  such  scandalous 
entries  as  this  :  "  Feb.  14th,  1766.  At  noon  went  to 
William  Jones's,  to  drink  punch ;  met  several  of  my 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      125 

friends,  and  got  decently  drunk.  The  groom  could 
not  be  accused  of  the  same  fault."  Whether  this  means 
that  the  groom  drank  not  at  all,  or  that  his  libations 
went  beyond  the  limits  of  decency,  does  not  very 
clearly  appear ;  but  noon  seems  an  early  hour  to  settle 
down  seriously  to  punch,  even  on  Saint  Valentine's 
day.  On  other  occasions  we  read  that  Mr.  Hiltzheimer 
went  with  his  two  sons  and  Daniel  Wister  to  Joseph 
Galloway's  place,  uto  eat  turtle,"-  — a  more  innocent 
indulgence ;  that  on  the  tenth  of  May  he  saw  a  "  ten- 
pound  race  between  Joseph  Hogg's  and  John  Bucking- 
ham's horses  "  ;  and  that  —  being  well  disposed  to 
divers  sorts  of  entertainment — he  found  equal  pleasure 
in  bull-baiting,  and  in  witnessing  the  performance  of 
"Romeo  and  Juliet,"  at  the  Old  Southwark  Theatre. 
An  opportunity  for  especial  festivity  was  the  King's 
birthday,  June  4th,  when  he  dined  on  the  green 
banks  of  the  Schuylkill,  in  company  with  three  hun- 
dred and  eighty  loyal  citizens,  all  in  most  jovial 
humour.  Any  number  of  healths  were  drunk  at  this 
gay  repast,  "  among  them  Dr.  Franklin's,  which  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  everybody."  A  long  boat  was 
then  dragged  to  the  water's  edge  and  launched,  while 
the  firing  of  "many  great  guns"  announced  King 
George's  birthday  to  the  town. 

No  one  was  better  disposed  towards  a  moderate 
conviviality  than  Franklin  himself,  for  all  his  maxims 
and  apothegms.  In  that  old  house  on  High  Street 


126  PHILADELPHIA 

where  he  lived  and  died,  where,  in  the  garden,  he 
flew  his  immortal  kite,  and  where  he  attached  his 
own  lightning-rod  to  his  own  wall,  thereby  greatly 
entertaining  his  curious  neighbours,  there  reigned 
always  hospitality  and  good  cheer.  True,  he  sent 
his  sister  Jane  a  spinning-wheel  instead  of  the 
coveted  tea-table,  desiring  her  to  be  a  "notable 
housewife."  True,  he  recommended  the  "  Whole 
Duty  of  Man,"  and  the  "Young  Lady's  Library," 
as  proper  reading  for  his  daughter  Sally,  in  place  of 
the  novels  for  which  her  spirit  yearned.  But,  never- 
theless, there  remains  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Historical  Society  that  delightful  punch- 
keg  which  could  be  rolled  so  easily  from  guest  to 
guest,  and  which  carried  the  generous  liquor  circling 
around  Franklin's  board.  A  curious  little  keg  this, 
pretty,  portly,  and  altogether  unlike  other  punch- 
bowls left  us  from  colonial  days.  And  what  of  that 
often  quoted  letter  written  by  Franklin  in  England  to 
his  wife,-  and  promising  her,  not  spinning-wheels  and 
decorous  dull  books,  but  the  foreign  crockery  dear  to 
the  hearts  of  all  colonial  dames.  Yet  not  every  spouse 
would  have  felt  pleased  by  this  dubious  compliment 
from  an  absent  husband. 

"I  also  forgot  to  mention  among  the  china  a  large 
fine  jug  for  beer,  to  stand  in  the  cooler.  I  fell  in 
love  with  it  at  first  sight  ;  for  I  thought  it  looked 
like  a  fat  jolly  dame,  clean  and  tidy,  with  a  neat 


HOW  THE  QUAKER  CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY     127 

blue   and   white   calico   gown   on,    good-natured    and 
lovely,  and  put  me  in  mind  of  —  somebody. " 

Praise  is  not  always  charming.  Had  Mrs.  Frank- 
lin loved  poetry  as  well  as  she  loved  her  husband, 
which  happily  does  not  seem  to  have  been  the  case, 
she  would  have  felt  more  pain  than  pleasure  at  hear- 
ing her  merits  extolled  by  him  in  such  halting  verses 
as  x  these  :  — 

"Not  a  word  of  her  face,  of  her  shape,  or  her  air, 
Or  of  flames,  or  of  darts,  you  shall  hear ; 
I  beauty  admire,  but  virtue  I  prize, 
That  fades  not  in  seventy  year. 

#  *  *  * 

"In  peace  and  good  order  my  household  she  guides, 
Right  careful  to  save  what  I  gain ; 
Yet  cheerfully  spends,  and  smiles  on  the  friends 
I've  the  pleasure  to  entertain." 

Well,  the  lines  show  at  least  that  Franklin  did 
like  to  entertain  his  friends,  and  that  it  gladdened 
him  to  see  his  wife  lay  aside  her  customary  frugality 
on  those  blithesome  occasions,  when  the  punch-keg 
went  rolling  round.  Mrs.  Franklin  —  being  but  a 
woman,  albeit  a  great  man's  helpmate  —  found  per- 
chance a  keener  joy  in  furnishing  her  house  than  in 
feeding  her  husband's  guests.  There  is  a  delightful 
blending  of  conscious  thrift  and  timorous  extrava- 
gance in  the  account  she  writes  him  of  her  modestly 
garnished  chambers. 


128  PHILADELPHIA 

"The  chairs  downstairs  are  plain  horsehair,  and 
look  as  well  as  Paduasoy,  and  are  admired  by  all. 
In  the  little  south  room  is  a  carpet  I  bought  cheap 
for  its  goodness,  and  nearly  new.  In  the  parlour  is 
a  Scotch  carpet  which  has  much  fault  found  with  it. 
In  the  north  room,  where  we  sit,  we  have  a  'small 
Scotch  carpet,  the  small  bookcase,  brother  John's  pict- 
ure, and  one  of  the  King  and  Queen.  In  the  room 
for  our  friends  we  have  the  Earl  of  Bute  hung  up, 
and  a  glass." 

The  simplicity  of  the  philosopher's  surroundings 
contrasted  sharply  with  the  beauty  and  elegance  of 
more  pretentious  dwellings  ;  with  Edward  Shippen's 
house,  for  example,  which  is  described  by  a  contem- 
porary chronicler  as  a  veritable  palace  of  delights, 
girt  by  an  ample  park,  "and  having  a  very  famous 
and  pleasant  summer-house  erected  in  the  middle  of 
his  garden,  abounding  with  tulips,  pinks,  carnations, 
roses,  and  lilies,  not  to  mention  those  that  grew  wild 
in  the  fields  ;  and  also  a  fine  lawn  upon  which  reposed 
his  herd  of  tranquil  deer." 

A  herd  of  deer  reposing  on  South  Second  Street 
seems  as  strange  an  anomaly  as  the  concealed  staircase, 
the  "priest's  escape,"  in  James  Logan's  country-seat, 
"Stenton."  Who  in  that  dignified  and  law-abiding 
household  could  ever  have  needed  to  escape,  save 
from  importunate  visitors,  or  from  the  friendly  Ind- 
ians who  came  again  and  again  to  Logan,  as  to 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONET      129 

their  truest  ally,  seeking  counsel  and  aid  in  their 
difficulties.  It  was  not  unusual  for  several  hundred 
Indians  to  stay  a  week  encamped  in  the  Stenton 
woods,  and  treated  always  with  the  greatest  kind- 
ness and  hospitality  by  the  master  of  the  house,  whose 
public  duties  left  him  scant  leisure  for  rest.  Small 
wonder  that  Cannassetego,  chief  of  the  Onondagas, 


STENTON 


bewailed  the  approaching  end  of  their  most  trusted 
friend,  and  touchingly  entreated  the  Council  that 
when  Logan's  soul  went  to  God,  another  might  be 
chosen  in  his  place,  "of  the  same  prudence  and 
ability  in  counselling,  and  of  the  same  tender  dis- 
position and  affection  for  the  Indians." 

The  beauty  of   Stenton   lay  in  its  broad   lands,  its 
superb  avenue  of  hemlocks,  which  tradition  pleasantly 


130  PHILADELPHIA 

but  mendaciously  asserted  to  have  been  planted  by 
William  Penn,  its  lofty  wainscoted  rooms,  its  gener- 
ous fireplaces,  ornamented  with  blue  and  white  tiles, 
its  graceful  staircase, — that  test  of  colonial  architect- 
ure,—  its  air  of  dignified  and  scholarly  repose.  Here, 
in  the  well-lit  library,  were  ranged  those  noble  old 
books  which  subsequently  became  the  city's  legacy  ; 
and  looking  at  them  with  love  and  pride,  their  owner 
felt  a  not  unreasonable  regret  that  no  one  in  the 
future  was  likely  to  cherish  them  as  he  did.  "  I 
have  four  children  now  with  me,"  he  writes  to 
Thomas  Story  in  1734,  "  who  I  think  take  more  after 
their  mother  than  me,  which  I  am  sure  thou  wilt  not 
dislike  in  them  ;  yet  if  they  had  more  of  a  mixture, 
it  might  be  of  some  use  to  bring  them  through  the 
world  ;  and  it  sometimes  gives  me  an  anxious  thought 
that  my  considerable  collections  of  Greek  and  Roman 
authors,  with  others  in  various  languages,  will  not 
find  an  heir  in  my  family  to  use  them  as  I  have 
done,  but  after  my  decease  may  be  sold  or  squan- 
dered away." 

If  ghosts  can  reasonably  rejoice  as  well  as  groan 
and  rattle  chains,  then  must  the  spirit  of  James 
Logan,  scholar  and  statesman,  have  exulted  over  the 
patient  toil  of  his  grandson's  wife,  heir  of  his  name 
though  not  of  his  blood,  as  she  faithfully  and  intel- 
ligently sorted,  copied  and  annotated  the  important 
letters  stored  in  the  Stenton  library,  and  wrought 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      131 

from  them  a  lasting  record  of  his  life  and  work. 
The  "  Penn  and  Logan  Papers,"  with  their  wealth  of 
historic  and  colonial  interest,  might  never  have  seen 
the  light,  had  not  Deborah  Logan  worked  year  after 
year  with  unwearied  and  unrewarded  fidelity  in  those 
too  scant  hours  of  leisure  which  the  mistress  of  a 
large  and  busy  household  could  dare  to  call  her  own. 

We  think  of  Quakers  now  as  clad  perpetually  in 
sober  drab,  with  close  bonnets  or  broad-brimmed 
hats  ;  but  for  many  years  after  the  founding  of  Phila- 
delphia they  wore  no  exclusive  costumes,  contenting 
themselves  with  avoiding  in  a  general  way  the  allure- 
ments of  fashion  and  finery.  Hence  the  stern  warn- 
ings, the  sharp  reproofs  directed  from  time  to  time 
against  those  daughters  of  Eve  who  yearned  after 
fancy  fig-leaves,  who  let  their  hair  stray  wantonly 
over  their  brows,  or  sought  to  widen  their  modest 
petticoats  with  the  seductive  crinoline.  As  Thomas 
Chalkley  vigorously  but  vainly  remarked,  "If  Al- 
mighty God  should  make  a  woman  in  the  same  Shape 
her  hoop  makes  her,  Everybody  would  say  truly  it  was 
monstrous  ;  so  according  to  this  real  truth  they  make 
themselves  Monsters  by  art." 

Nor  were  the  female  Friends  averse  to  glowing 
colours,  remembering  perhaps  Penn's  sky-blue  sash 
which  gave  them  warrant  for  their  weakness.  Their 
silk  aprons  rivalled  the  rainbow,  and  not  infrequently 
their  gowns  were  of  red  or  green,  instead  of  that  dove- 


132  PHILADELPHIA 

like  hue  which  Whittier  loved  and  praised.  Sir  God- 
frey Kneller's  portrait  of  Sarah,  elder  daughter  of 
James  Logan  of  Stenton,  and  wife  of  Isaac  Norris  of 
Fairhill,  shows  us  a  stately  young  woman  dressed  in 
deep  blue,  and  with  the  air  of  an  English  court 
beauty  rather  than  a  colonial  Quaker  matron.  Thomas 
Lloyd's  daughter,  Mary,  who  married  Isaac  Norris  the 
elder,  is  also  painted  in  a  blue  gown  relieved  with 
crimson ;  and  her  granddaughter,  Mary  Dickinson, 
appears  all  in  red,  that  deep  seducing  red  which  the 
Paris  artists  of  to-day  love  better  than  any  other 
shade.  These  women,  despite  their  partiality  for  vivid 
tints,  were  strict  Quakers,  but  Quakers  upon  whom 
the  rigid  rules  of.  an  exclusive  costume  had  yet  to  be 
imposed.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Dickinson  was  one  of  the 
last  to  rejoice  in  the  glory  of  colour,  for  we  find  her 
daughter,  Maria  Logan,  painted  in  the  orthodox  dress 
of  the  Friends,  and  presenting  a  curious  contrast  to 
her  resplendent  kinsfolk.  There  is  ample  evidence 
to  show  that  the  scarlet  cloaks  so  popular  in  provincial 
England  (who  does  not  remember  poor  ill-fated  Syl- 
via's?) found  their  way  over  the  ocean,  and  created 
much  disturbance  among  the  sober-minded  and  austere. 
That  one  of  these  gay  garments,  "  almost  new,  with  a 
double  cape,"  was  stolen  from  Franklin's  house  in  1750, 
proves  that  the  philosopher  did  not  seek  to  restrain 
the  natural  longing  of  wife  and  daughter  for  the 
shining,  dress-laden  booths  of  Vanity  Fair. 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      133 

Gayer  and  gayer  grew  the  Quaker  City  that  had 
been  so  demure  in  childhood.  Coaches  emblazoned 
with  heraldic  devices  rolled  through  the  ill-paved 
streets.  In  the  bitter  cold  of  winter  days  the  frozen 
Delaware  was  covered  with  merry  throngs ;  and  there 
is  a  pleasant  flavour  of  colonial  simplicity  in  the  inter- 
esting information,  wafted  along  a  century  and  more, 
that  the  best  skaters  of  their  day  were  General  Cad- 
walader  and  Massey  the  biscuit-maker.  In  the  bitter 
cold  of  winter  nights,  wax  candles  shone  softly  down 
on  Philadelphia's  sons  and  daughters,  as  they  met  for 
the  famous  Dancing  Assemblies  that  date  from  1749, 
and  lend  an  air  of  prim  worldliness  to  the  uneventful 
annals  of  the  town.  Dancing  seems  never  to  have 
been  regarded  with  the  same  stern  disapprobation  that 
made  the  theatre  a  forbidden  joy.  Whitefield,  indeed, 
who  was  impartially  opposed  to  cakes  and  ale  in  any 
shape,  waged  an  earnest  crusade  against  this,  as  against 
all  other  diversions,  and  set  himself  the  serious  task 
of  remodelling  the  nature  of  youth,  But  before  he 
came  to  make  a  dull  world  duller,  the  colonists  who 
were  not  Quakers  had  smiled  indulgently  upon  such 
harmless  mirth ;  and  the  Quakers,  though  not  dan- 
cing themselves,  had  been  serenely  content  that  others 
should.  Mr.  Richard  Castelman,  writing  in  1710, 
records  with  a  grateful  heart  the  kindness  and  courtesy 
of  "  the  facetious  Mr.  Staples,  the  dancing-master,  who 
was  the  first  stranger  of  Philadelphia  that  did  me  the 


134  PHILADELPHIA 

honour  of  a  visit.  To  his  merry  company  I  owe  the 
passing  of  many  a  sad  hour,  that  might  have  hung 
heavy  upon  the  hands  of  a  man  deprived  of  friends  and 
fortune  in  an  alien  land." 

Thirty  years  later,  we  find  several  dancing-masters 
prepared  to  teach  "fashionable  English  and  French 
dances,  after  the  newest  and  politest  manner  practised 
in  London,  Dublin,  and  Paris "  ;  and,  with  the  per- 
fection of  such  accomplishments,  there  came  naturally 
in  time  subscription  balls,  in  which  the  graces  thus 
acquired  could  be  properly  shown  to  the  world.  These 
balls,  if  they  somewhat  scandalized  the  elect,  were 
favoured  with  the  approbation  and  patronage  of  the 
Episcopal  clergy,  who  were  well  disposed  towards  any 
form  of  entertainment  which  the  Quakers  rejected,  and 
of  which  the  Presbyterians  disapproved.  The  Assem- 
blies were  not  scenes  of  wild  dissipation,  nor  was  there 
any  excessive  extravagance  to  provoke  the  direful  elo- 
quence of  the  pulpit.  They  began  at  precisely  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  by  midnight  the  dancers 
were  all  wending  their  ways  homeward.  The  old 
subscription  ticket  cost  forty  shillings  ;  and  for  this 
moderate  outlay  a  gentleman  could  take  the  lady  of  his 
choice  to  sixteen  or  eighteen  entertainments,  the  dances 
being  given  every  Thursday  night  in  the  winter  and 
early  spring.  The  supper  was  of  the  very  lightest 
order,  consisting,  it  was  said,  "  chiefly  of  something 
to  drink " ;  a  not  inadequate  description  of  a  repast 


HOW  THE  QUAKER   CITY  SPENT  ITS  MONEY      135 

where  five  gallons  of  ram  and  two  hundred  limes  were 
consumed  in  punch,  and  nine  shillings'  worth  of  "  milk 
bisket"  represented  the  solid  food, — a  half -penny  worth 
of  bread  to  this  intolerable  deal  of  sack.  Card-tables 
were  prepared  for  the  amusement  of  those  who  did 
not  dance,  and  who  appear  to  have  been  less  patient 
then  than  now,  and  less  disposed  to  play  a  purely 
passive  part. 

The  invitations  were  often  printed  on  the  undeco- 
rated  backs  of  common  playing-cards,  blank  cards  of 
any  kind  being  exceedingly  scarce,  and  spades  and 
hearts  being  only  too  abundant  in  an  age  which  had 
not  yet  learned  to  repudiate  gambling  as  a  sadly 
unprofitable  vice.  No  wife  nor  daughter  of  mechanic 
or  tradesman  was  suffered  to  enter  the  Assemblies 
which  were  rigidly  aristocratic,  and  no  flippant  co- 
quetry was  permitted  to  interfere  with  the  decorous  or- 
der of  procedure.  The  ladies  who  arrived  earliest  had 
places  duly  assigned  them  in  the  first  set,  and  those 
who  followed  were  distributed  throughout  other  sets, 
either  at  the  discretion  of  the  directors,  or  according 
to  the  numbers  they  drew,  —  a  melancholy  arrange- 
ment, fraught,  like  the  modern  dinner,  with  many 
painful  possibilities.  It  was  Miss  Polly  Riche  who 
in  1782  first  revolted  against  this  stringent  rule,  and 
insisted  on  standing  up  in  any  set  she  fancied,  thus 
precipitating  a  quarrel  between  the  gentlemen  who 
supported  her  recusancy  and  the  managers  of  the 


136 


PHILADELPHIA 


Assembly.  But  what  other  conduct  could  have  been 
expected  in  1782  ?  Cornwallis  had  surrendered ;  the 
war  of  the  Revolution  was  practically  at  an  end ;  inde- 
pendence had  been  won,  and  Philadelphia  was  slowly 
struggling  to  emerge  from  chaos  into  a  new  law  and 
order.  An  evil  time  this  for  conservatives,  as  Miss 
Polly  Riche  doubtless  understood ;  so  she  struck  her 
little  blow  for  liberty,  and  struck  it  not  in  vain.  The 
exaltation  of  freedom  manifested  itself  on  all  sides  in 
a  general  disposition  to  obey  nobody,  and  the  hour 
was  ripe  for  revolt. 


FRANKLIN'S  PUNCH  KEG 


CHAPTER   IX 

WAR    AND   THE   RUMOURS   OF   WAR 

~VY7"HILE  the  province  was  growing  rich  in  long 
years  of  peaceful  industry,  the  Proprietors 
were  amassing  noble  fortunes  from  the  increased 
value  of  their  quit-rents.  John  Penn,  "the  Ameri- 
can," visited  Philadelphia  in  1732,  and  was  received 
with  clamorous  delight :  flags  flying,  cannon  thun- 
dering, addresses  without  stint,  and  a  grand  banquet 
which  cost  the  town  exactly  forty  pounds,  twelve 
shillings,  and  twopence.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  the 
little  twopence  so  faithfully  and  accurately  recorded. 
Thomas  Penn,  John's  younger  and  cleverer  brother, 
lived  for  nine  years  in  the  colony,  and  showed  equal 
ability  in  the  management  of  public  affairs  and  of  his 
own  interests.  He  had  more  than  his  father's  shrewd- 
ness, but  lacked  the  distinction  of  character  which 
made  Pennsylvania's  Founder  a  marked  man,  whether 
he  lived  in  the  two-storied  Letitia  House,  or  in  the 
courts  of  kings.  Thomas  had  no  mind  for  two-story 
cottages.  He  purchased  in  1760  Stoke  Park,  which 
had  been  the  home  of  Sir  Christopher  Hatton  in  the 
days  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  and  his  son  John  made  of 

137 


138  PHILADELPHIA 

this  noble  old  place,  and  of  Pennsylvania  Castle,  his 
other  country-seat  on  the  Isle  of  Portland,  two  great 
estates,  famous  during  half  a  century  for  their  ele- 
gance and  beauty. 

There  is  no  denying  that  it  was  the  persistent 
peace  policy  of  the  Quakers  which  sepured  for  Penn- 
sylvania its  unmarred  prosperity,  and  that  this  policy 
received  the  support  of  the  people,  notwithstanding 
the  clamour  raised  by  angry  and  belligerent  agitators. 
What  did  the  Quaker  Assembly  care  if  Spanish 
privateers  flaunted  their  hostile  colours  in  Delaware 
Bay  ?  They  knew  enough  about  privateering  them- 
selves to  be  well  aware  that  no  serious  injury  was  to 
be  feared  from  these  rovers  of  the  sea,  who  preferred 
robbing  to  fighting  any  day,  and  who  sought  easier 
prey  than  a  town  protected  by  the  dangerous  shoals 
in  its  river  bed.  The  war  with  Spain  seemed  no  con- 
cern of  Philadelphia's,  and  for  a  long  time  the  wars 
between  France  and  England  fretted  her  but  faintly. 
She  protected  her  merchant  ships  with  convoys,  and 
she  listened  calmly  to  glowing  harangues,  mostly 
preached  from  Episcopal  pulpits,  which  described  the 
horrors  to  come  :  the  city  wrapped  in  flames,  fathers 
slain,  children  homeless  and  weeping,  desolation  and 
ruin  everywhere,  —  all  because  the  Quakers  would 
neither  fight  themselves,  nor  vote  money  to  pay  for 
fighting  men.  Pamphlets  circulated  at  this  time 
resemble  in  tone  the  appeals  made  to  rural  and  pro- 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOURS  OF  WAR  139 

vincial  England,  when  every  week  brought  a  fresh 
rumour  that  Napoleon  and  his  troops  had  landed 
upon  English  soil. 

Occasionally,  but  not  often,  the  Quakers  put  forth 
a  defensive  pamphlet  of  their  own.  They  were  never 
much  addicted  to  talking  nor  to  printing  ;  and  the 
wealth  of  argument,  animadversion,  and  personal  ap- 
plication of  strong  passages  from  Holy  Writ,  launched 
at  their  devoted  heads,  won  little  response,  save  that 
of  quiet  and  obstinate  resistance.  Abusing  them  was 
like  hurling  a  missile  against  a  padded  wall ;  there 
was  not  even  a  rebound.  The  Assembly  was  as  willing 
that  Franklin  should  organize  the  first  militia  com- 
pany as  that  he  should  organize  the  first  fire  brigade. 
It  even  permitted  him  to  buy  gunpowder  with  some 
of  the  money  voted  for  "wheat  and  other  grains," 
and  serene  Friends  frankly  acknowledged  that  they 
did  not  condemn  the  use  of  arms  in  those  who 
thought  it  right  to  bear  them.  But  they  were 
determined  that  the  peace  of  the  province  should 
not  be  lightly  broken,  and  they  were  disposed  to 
temporize  as  far  as  possible  when  the  growing  hos- 
tility of  the  Indians  brought  real  danger  close  to 
their  city's  doors. 

The  cause  of  this  hostility  is  not  hard  to  find. 
Every  year,  as  the  colony  increased,  it  became  more 
difficult  to  control  the  frontiersmen,  who  had  no 
scruples  in  occupying  the  Indians'  land,  and  no  hesi- 


140  PHILADELPHIA 

tation  in  shooting  the  Indians,  if  they  presumed  to 
interfere.  Sturdy  farmers,  Scotch-Irish  and  Ger- 
mans principally,  deemed  it  as  preposterous  to  talk 
about  the  rights  of  savages  as  the  rights  of  wolves 
and  foxes.  God  never  intended  the  fertile  soil  to  be 
wasted  on  wandering  heathens.  Even  Franklin  philo- 
sophically remarked  that  rum,  which  had  already 
wrought  dreadful  havoc  among  the  tribes  of  the  sea- 
coast,  was  perhaps  the  means  appointed  by  Provi- 
dence to  destroy  a  race  that  blocked  the  way  of 
advancing  civilization.  The  shameful  "  Walking  Pur- 
chase "  was  another  wrong  that  sank  deeply  in  the 
Indians'  hearts.  They  knew  they  had  been  outwitted 
by  the  Proprietors,  and  they  felt  themselves  at  the 
mercy  of  the  Six  Nations,  whom  the  white  men  had 
summoned  as  allies.  The  Albany  Treaty  of  1754,  by 
which  the  colonists  gained  the  fertile  land  lying  west 
of  the  Susquehanna,  destroyed  the  last  sentiments  of 
good-will  that  lingered  in  the  red  men's  souls. 
Driven  practically  out  of  Pennsylvania,  and  forced 
to  seek  shelter  amid  alien  tribes,  their  anger  and 
deep  humiliation  made  them  only  too  ready  to  listen 
to  the  wily  advances  of  the  French,  who  were  then 
planning  a  chain  of  forts  to  stretch  from  the  Great 
Lakes  to  New  Orleans.  That  tenacious  memory  of 
the  Indian,  which  never  permitted  him  to  forget 
either  benefit  or  injury,  had  its  serious  inconven- 
iences. He  was  still  well  disposed  towards  the 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOUBS   OF  WAR  141 

Quakers,  still  loved  and  honoured  the  name  of  Wil- 
liam Penn,  "  the  white  truth-teller,"  who  had  so  con- 
sistently practised  what  he  preached.  But  new 
wrongs  could  no  more  be  forgotten  than  old  friend- 
ships. The  long  peace  of  seventy  years  which  Penn 
had  bequeathed  to  his  colony  was  drawing  to  a  close ; 
and  the  savages,  once  helpless  as  well  as  harmless, 
but  now  made  sullen  by  ill-usage,  and  dangerous  by 
the  French  alliance,  had  become  a  menace  to  the  safety 
of  the  province,  pacified  and  bribed  into  inaction  by 
generous  presents  from  the  Assembly. 

This  was  a  state  of  things  which  could  not  long 
endure.  The  treaty  between  England  and  France 
was  broken  in  1755,  and  Major-General  Braddock 
was  sent  to  stop  the  advance  of  the  French  troops 
and  their  Indian  allies.  The  Assembly,  though  occu- 
pied at  this  time  in  a  particularly  lively  quarrel  with 
Governor  Morris,  recognized  the  greatness  of  the 
emergency,  laid  aside  its  scruples  anent  war,  and 
borrowed  twenty  thousand  pounds  on  its  own  credit 
to  supply  Braddock  with  horses  and  provisions.  The 
result  of  the  campaign  is  too  well  known  to  need 
another  telling.  Not  only  Macaulay's  omniscient 
schoolboy,  but  less  admirably  instructed  people  re- 
member well  what  happened.  Seven  miles  from 
Fort  Du  Quesne  the  English  forces  were  surrounded 
by  the  French  and  Indians,  and  killed,  easily  and 
ruthlessly,  like  wild  beasts  in  a  trap.  Of  thirteen 


142  PHILADELPHIA 

hundred  men,  only  four  hundred  and  sixty  escaped 
that  dreadful  slaughter;  sixty-three  out  of  eighty- 
six  officers  were  slain  or  wounded.  The  French 
loss  was  slight,  and  the  fifty  or  sixty  Indians  whom 
the  hemmed-in  English  succeeded  in  shooting  could 
easily  be  replaced.  It  was  a  massacre  rather  than  a 
battle,  and  it  left  Pennsylvania  at  the  mercy  of  her 
foes. 

The  time  for  temporizing  was  past.  The  Indians, 
savagely  elate  that  their  day  of  reckoning  had  come, 
ravaged  the  province,  and  their  stealthy  attacks  filled 
all  the  land  with  terror  and  despairing  rage.  It  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  send  troops  to  the  frontier, 
and  the  Assembly  was  ready  and  eager  to  vote  the 
necessary  funds,  either  by  a  new  issue  of  paper  cur- 
rency, or  by  direct  taxation,  from  which  it  justly 
insisted  the  estates  of  the  Proprietors  should  no 
longer  be  exempt.  To  these  measures,  however, 
Governor  Morris  refused  his  consent,  and  for  a  while 
it  seemed  as  if  all  the  farmers  of  Pennsylvania 
might  be  scalped,  because  the  Proprietors  would  not 
relinquish  their  privileges,  nor  the  Assembly  its  con- 
stitutional rights.  Happily,  before  the  country  was 
rendered  wholly  desolate,  a  compromise  was  reached. 
Thomas  Penn  offered  in  his  own  name,  and  in  the 
names  of  his  brothers,  to  contribute  five  thousand 
pounds  towards  the  expenses  of  the  war;  the  Assem- 
bly responded  with  equal  generosity  by  raising  the 


WAR  AND  THE  RUMOURS  OF  WAR  143 

really  noble  sum  of  sixty  thousand  pounds,  indepen- 
dent of  the  proprietary  estates,  and  by  promptly 
passing  Franklin's  militia  bill,  which  sent  a  thousand 
sturdy  men  at  once  to  the  frontier. 

It  is  a  little  surprising,  accustomed  as  we  are  to 
the  inevitable  appearance  of  Franklin  in  all  emergen- 
cies, to  find  him,  not  only  organizing  the  militia,  — 
there  was  nothing  on  earth  he  could  not  organize, — 
but  actually  marching  at  its  head  into  the  Lehigh 
Valley,  prepared  to  defend  his  country  with  his  sword 
or  his  rifle,  whichever  he  carried,  and  surpassing  in 
this  one  respect,  at  least,  the  labours  of  Michel- 
angelo for  Italy.  He  built  some  little  forts  in  the 
valley,  and  succeeded  in  partially  checking  the  Ind- 
ian raids.  Only  ten  farmers,  we  are  told,  were 
massacred  in  that  district  during  his  two  months' 
occupancy;  and  while  this  does  not  sound  to  us  now 
like  satisfactory  protection,  it  seems  to  have  been 
considered  at  the  time  a  very  creditable  piece  of  work. 
Franklin  returned  to  Philadelphia  to  be  made  a  colonel, 
and  receive  the  ovations  of  the  populace ;  and  his  fort 
at  Gnadenhutten,  being  surprised  by  the  savages  while 
its  garrison  were  skating  one  fine  afternoon,  the  vil- 
lage it  defended  was  burned  to  the  ground,  and 
nearly  all  the  inhabitants  slain. 

Mr.  Sydney  Fisher  has  pointed  out  with  admirable 
accuracy  and  good  temper  that  Pennsylvania,  so  far 
from  being  the  languid,  supine  province  which  Mr. 


144  PHILADELPHIA 

Parkman  is  never  weary  of  contrasting  with  vigorous 
and  altogether  inimitable  New  England,  was  in  reality 
playing  an  active  and  prominent  part  in  these  years 
of  hand-to-hand  struggle  with  the  Indians.  She  gave 
men,  and  she  gave  money  with  unstinted  liberality, 
but  she  asked  in  return  the  preservation  of  her  own 
rights ;  and  the  governors  who  fancied  that  the  exi- 
gencies of  war  could  be  used  as  a  weapon  to  wrest 
from  the  Assembly  an  authority  cemented  by  seventy 
years  of  masterdom,  found  themselves  signally  mis- 
taken in  their  calculations.  The  violence  of  party 
spirit  was  now  so  thoroughly  aroused  that  even  a 
common  danger  was  powerless  to  allay  it.  The 
Quakers  clung  stubbornly  to  their  prerogatives,  and 
their  opponents  appealed  to  England  for  protection, 
asserting  that  the  safety  of  the  colony  was  at  stake. 
It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Provost  Smith  made  his 
furious  attack  upon  the  Assembly,  and  the  exuberant 
impetuosity  of  his  sentiments  reflected  fairly  the 
hostile  attitude  of  the  Episcopal  and  proprietary 
party.  It  was  but  natural  that  the  Privy  Council 
should  lend  an  attentive  ear  to  complaints  urged 
against  men  who  had  ever  opposed  the  voice  of  home 
authority.  The  Penns  were  assured  that  unless  the 
Friends  acted  "a  more  rational  and  dutiful  part," 
they  should  not  be  permitted  "  to  continue  in  stations 
to  perplex  the  government "  ;  and  an  imperious  mes- 
sage was  sent  over  the  seas,  condemning  in  no  stinted 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOURS   OF  WAR 


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146  PHILADELPHIA 

terms  the  tardiness  of  the  provincial  rulers  in  prose 
cuting  the  war,  and  defending  their  own  frontiers. 

Historic  fiction  is  deathless.  It  can  never  be  si- 
lenced nor  discredited.  The  Quakers  have  always 
borne  the  blame  for  Pennsylvania's  failure  to  beat 
back  her  savage  foes.  It  is  true  that,  when  the  mes- 
sage of  the  Privy  Council  was  received,  the  Assembly 
at  once  passed  a  compulsory  militia  bill,  and  that  the 
governor  promptly  vetoed  it ;  true  that  the  Assembly 
voted  a  second  grant  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds 
—  an  enormous  sum  in  those  days  —  for  the  expenses 
of  the  war,  and  that  the  Proprietors  still  refused  to 
bear  their  share  of  the  taxation.  But  these  details 
are  wisely  ignored  by  historians,  as  both  annoying 
and  unmanageable.  Once  weakly  admit  such  in- 
trusive facts  into  history,  and  the  smoothness  and 
brilliancy  of  the  narrative  is  forever  destroyed. 

What  does  seem  tolerably  sure,  is  that  while  Quakers 
and  Episcopalians  contended  for  mastery,  the  Indians 
had  things  pretty  much  their  own  way,  and  came 
within  thirty  miles  of  Philadelphia.  Penn's  city  of 
peace  bid  fair  to  become  —  as  in  later  years  —  the 
headquarters  of  war,  when  the  wise  and  energetic 
measures  of  the  elder  Pitt  restored  some  semblance 
of  harmony  to  the  combative  colonists,  and  infused 
fresh  vigour  into  the  provincial  government.  The 
Prime  Minister's  clear  eyes  saw  the  absurdity  of  the 
situation,  his  impregnable  common-sense  mastered  its 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOURS  OF   WAR  147 

difficulties.  Born  ruler  of  men,  he  knew  when  to 
abandon  the  policy  of  coercion  for  one  of  conciliation 
and  kindness.  His  counsel  and  generous  assistance 
put  the  wearisome  struggle  with  the  Indians  on  a 
wholly  fresh  basis.  Arms,  ammunition,  and  other 
necessities  for  the  troops  were  despatched  at  once 
from  England ;  three  thousand  recruits,  raised  in 
Pennsylvania,  promptly  joined  the  expedition  against 
Fort  Du  Quesne ;  and  the  Quaker  Assembly  voted 
another  hundred  thousand  pounds  to  meet  the  emer- 
gencies of  this  final  struggle.  A  bounty  of  five 
pounds  was  also  offered  for  every  volunteer,  thus 
putting  a  positive  premium  upon  war ;  while  at  the 
same  time,  to  leave  no  stone  unturned,  the  Moravian, 
missionary,  Frederick  Post,  was  sent  on  an  embassy 
of  peace  to  the  Shawanese  and  Delaware  Indians, 
who,  though  alienated  from  the  English,  were  not 
closely  allied  with  the  French.  Post  was  as  success- 
ful in  his  negotiations  as  were  General  Forbes  and 
Colonel  Bouquet  in  their  military  manoeuvres.  A 
convention  was  held  at  Easton,  three  hundred  chiefs 
of  various  tribes  being  present.  The  Proprietors, 
through  their  agents,  restored  to  the  savages  a  large 
portion  of  the  land  taken  from  them  by  the  Albany 
Treaty ;  and  the  chiefs  solemnly  declared  themselves 
satisfied  with  the  restitution,  and  despatched  at  once 
to  their  young  braves  the  white  wampum  belt,  em- 
blem of  peace  and  good-will.  No  words  can  ade- 


148  PHILADELPHIA 

quately  praise  the  "heroism,  the  quiet  unflinching 
courage  which  carried  an  unarmed  Moravian  with 
two  or  three  devoted  followers  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  hostile  country,  where  death  lurked  day  and 
night  amid  the  sombre  woods. 

In  the  meantime,  arguments  of  a  different  order  had 
been  brought  to  bear  upon  the  allied  French  and 
Indians  at  Fort  Du  Quesne,  and  they  were  found  to 
be  so  convincing  that,  after  two  assaults  and  one  long 
bloody  battle,  the  French  troops  withdrew  from  the 
fort,  setting  fire  to  it  before  their  departure,  and 
carrying  safely  away  their  guns  and  ammunition, 
though  beset  by  an  invading  army  outnumbering  them 
ten  to  one.  Their  departure  restored  safety  and  tran- 
quillity to  Pennsylvania.  Thousands  of  farmers  re- 
turned to  their  abandoned  homes.  Fort  Pitt  was  built 
for  their  protection  on  the  site  of  Fort  Du  Quesne, 
and  where  the  city  of  Pittsburg  now  stands,  commemo- 
rating the  name  of  the  great  statesman  to  whom  was 
mainly  due  the  renewed  prosperity  of  the  province. 
Forbes,  shattered  in  health,  was  carried  back  to  Phila- 
delphia, where  he  died  the  following  spring,  and  was 
buried  in  Christ  Church.  For  a  few  years  peace  reigned 
in  the  city  of  peace,  and  the  Assembly  gained  a  real 
and  lasting  victory  when  Franklin,  who  had  exchanged 
military  glory  for  the  more  congenial  field  of  diplo- 
macy, obtained  the  consent  of  the  Privy  Council  to  a 
bill  authorizing  the  taxation  of  the  proprietary  estates. 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOURS  OF  WAR  149 

This  was  the  most  important  service  he  had  rendered 
yet  to  the  commonwealth.  It  had  cost  him  two  long 
years  of  hard  work  and  weary  waiting  in  England ; 
it  had  taxed  his  ingenuity,  his  resources,  his  patience 
to  the  utmost ;  but  it  established  his  fame  as  a  diplo- 
matist, and  was  the  beginning  of  his  successful  public 
career. 

In  1763  the  treaty  of  Paris  ended  the  war  with 
France.  There  was  a  reasonable  hope  in  every  heart 
that  the  evil  times  were  over,  and  that  the  old  days 
of  peace  and  comfort  had  returned  to  the  province, 
now  more  thickly  settled,  more  assiduously  cultivated 
than  before.  But  although  the  French  had  been 
driven  westward,  the  Indians  remained,  and  the  set- 
tlers, having  learned  nothing  from  experience,  treated 
them  more  cruelly  and  contemptuously  than  before, 
believing  that,  unaided  by  European  allies,  they  were 
no  longer  to  be  feared,  and  that  they  should  be 
punished  for  all  the  trouble  they  had  dared  to  give. 
Perhaps  it  is  never  wise  to  provoke  a  savage  foe  beyond 
his  rather  limited  powers  of  endurance.  When  the 
game  seems  easiest,  then  is  danger  near  at  hand.  The 
story  of  Pontiac  is  no  part  of  Philadelphia's  history, 
save  that  his  ruthless  and  terrible  wars  brought  devas- 
tation to  the  fertile  farms  and  smiling  hamlets  of 
Pennsylvania;  for  this  Indian  Attila,  who  combined 
the  fierceness  of  the  barbarian  with  the  genius  of  a 
great  commander,  had  organized  the  scattered  tribes 


150  PHILADELPHIA 

into  a  destroying  army,  infinitely  more  dangerous 
because  ruled  by  a  single  mind,  bent  on  the  extermina- 
tion of  the  white  man.  Fort  Pitt,  the  one  defence 
and  stronghold  of  the  province,  was  surrounded  and 
patiently  besieged  by  the  savages ;  but  the  splendid 
courage  of  its  Swiss  commander,  Captain  Ecuyer, 
nerved  his  soldiers  to  resolute  resistance,  and  they 
held  out  bravely  until  relieved  by  Colonel  Bouquet 
who,  with  a  mere  handful  of  veterans,  went  gallantly 
to  the  rescue  of  his  countryman.  He  asked  help  in 
this  desperate  enterprise  from  Pennsylvania's  frontiers- 
men, from  those  Scotch-Irish  farmers  to  whose  hostile 
attitude  was  due  much  of  the  present  trouble ;  but 
not  one  of  them  consented  to  accompany  him.  The 
glorious  battle  of  August  5th,  which  saved  Fort  Pitt, 
checked  the  triumphant  advance  of  the  Indians,  and 
warded  off  from  many  a  hearth  the  torch  and  the 
scalping  knife,  was  fought  by  two  regiments  of  English 
soldiers,  so  enfeebled  by  service  in  the  West  Indies 
that  many  of  them  died  in  the  long,  cruel  marches 
before  their  goal  was  reached. 

The  danger  once  lifted,  however,  the  hearts  of  the 
settlers  grew  hot  with  rage,  and  they  formed  them- 
selves into  companies  for  the  easy  extermination  of 
scattered  and  often  harmless  bands  of  Indians,  whose 
depredations  had  never  gone  further  than  a  gypsy-like 
pilfering  of  hen-roosts.  The  history  of  the  so-called 
Paxton  Boys  is  one  of  the  dark  stains  on  Pennsylva- 


WAR  AND  THE  RUMOURS  OF  WAR      151 

nia's  record.  It  has  been  told  many  times  already, 
and  each  new  telling  makes  it  seem  more  thoroughly 
disgraceful  than  before.  A  little  band  of  friendly 
Indians,  direct  descendants  of  the  savages  with  whom 
William  Penn  had  made  his  first  successful  treaty, 
was  settled  at  Conestoga,  near  Lancaster.  All  its 
members  had  long  since  been  converted  to  Christianity 
by  the  kind  Moravians,  and  supported  themselves  by 
basket-weaving,  that  time-honoured  industry  of  their 
race.  The  wrathful  colonists  of  Paxton,  inflamed 
by  the  preaching  of  the  church  militant,  as  embodied 
in  the  fierce  harangues  of  John  Elder,  determined  to 
pluck  out,  root  and  branch,  these  abominations,  hated 
of  the  Lord.  With  this  pious  purpose,  fifty-seven  of 
them  went  at  daybreak  on  the  fourteenth  of  December, 
1763,  to  the  Indian  village,  and  found  there  only 
three  men,  two  women,  and  a  young  boy.  One  hun- 
dred and  forty  of  the  tribe  had  been  carried  off  to 
Philadelphia  the  day  before,  and  fourteen  of  them 
were  wandering  about  the  country,  selling  their 
baskets  and  brooms.  Though  sorely  disappointed 
by  the  smallness  of  the  catch,  the  Paxton  rangers 
promptly  killed  the  men,  the  women,  and  the  boy, 
set  fire  to  the  village,  and  retired  jubilantly,  trusting 
that  Providence  would  soon  deliver  a  more  satisfac- 
tory prey  into  their  hands. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait.     The  Lancaster  sheriff, 
hearing   what   had    been    done,   and    eager    to    avert 


152  PHILADELPHIA 

further  bloodshed,  collected  together  the  fourteen 
Indians  who  had  escaped  the  massacre,  and  lodged 
them  for  protection  in  the  jail.  His  action  was  kindly 
meant,  but  the  jail  was  old  and  weak.  The  Paxton 
Boys  knew  now  where  to  find  their  victims.  They 
rode  in  a  body  to  Lancaster,  thrust  aside  their  pastor, 
John  Elder,  who  vainly  strove  to  turn  them  from 
the  meditated  murder,  beat  down  the  jail  doors,  and 
cut  the  fourteen  Indians,  men,  women,  and  children, 
into  pieces  with  their  hatchets.  And  these  were  the 
settlers  who  had  refused  their  aid  to  Bouquet's  fever- 
stricken  troops,  when  they  were  asked  to  defend  their 
own  province  in  open  and  honourable  warfare. 

The  deed  awoke  shame  and  anger  in  every  honest 
breast.  Brave  men  loathed  its  cowardice,  good  men 
its  sickening  brutality.  Franklin  laid  aside  his  phil- 
osophic theories  concerning  savages  and  the  march 
of  civilization,  and  wrote  his  famous  "Narrative," 
telling  in  simple,  straightforward  phrases  the  whole 
horrible  story,  and  sternly  reminding  the  colonists 
that,  even  in  the  improbable  event  of  the  butchered 
Indians  having  been  on  friendly  terms  with  hostile 
tribes,  the  lawless  murder  was  no  less  a  crime  against 
God,  against  the  commonwealth,  and  against  the  very 
essence  of  civilization,  which  such  acts  of  violence 
inevitably  and  hopelessly  blighted.  As  for  the 
Quakers,  who  felt  themselves  in  an  especial  manner 
outraged  by  the  cruel  slaughter  of  their  helpless 


WAR  AND  THE  RUMOURS  OF  WAR      153 

dependents,  they  were  aroused  to  a  state  of  un- 
Quakerlike  wrath,  which  it  is  both  pleasant  and  whole- 
some to  contemplate.  Governor  Penn  issued  two 
proclamations,  denouncing  the  murders,  and  instruct- 
ing the  magistrates  to  arrest  the  murderers,  which, 
of  course,  they  never  did.  On  the  contrary,  the 
Paxtons  found  themselves  so  agreeably  free  from 
molestation  that  they  grew  valorous,  and  set  out 
for  Philadelphia,  with  the  openly  avowed  intention 
of  killing  the  one  hundred  and  forty  Moravian 
Indians  who  had  been  taken  there  for  safety. 

The  Friends  prepared  to  give  the  invaders  a  hot 
welcome.  They  even  took  up  arms  with  an  alacrity 
foreign  to  their  principles,  and  which  left  no  shadow 
of  doubt  as  to  the  course  they  intended  to  pursue. 
English  regulars  were  summoned  to  their  aid,  and 
the  city  swarmed  with  defenders.  It  had  been  deemed 
prudent  to  place  the  frightened  Indians  out  of  harm's 
way  by  sending  them  to  a  distance,  but  neither  New 
Jersey  nor  New  York  would  consent  to  receive  them. 
Apparently  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  colonial 
government  which  did  not  fear  a  mob. 

Philadelphia  honourably  resolved  that  no  power 
on  earth  should  wrest  from  her  these  poor  hostages 
to  fortune.  They  were  lodged  in  the  soldiers'  bar- 
racks, freshly  fortified  with  trenches  and  cannon, 
and  we  see  the  ubiquitous  Franklin  assuming  the 
personal  charge  of  their  defence.  When  the  Paxton 


154  PHILADELPHIA 

rangers,  now  numbering  a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred 
men,  reached  Germantown,  they  found  matters  not 
at  all  to  their  liking.  Here  was  no  question  of  easy 
butchery,  but  of  stout  fighting,  if  they  were  to  -at- 
tempt carrying  out  their  purpose.  The  prospect 
cooled  their  ardour,  and  they  announced  themselves 
ready  to  negotiate.  Franklin  was  thereupon  sent 
to  meet  them,  and  to  him  they  forthwith  presented 
a  memorial  of  their  grievances,  as  if  they  had  been 
sinned  against,  and  were  innocent  of  crime.  Their 
complaints  were  many,  but  first  and  foremost  on  the 
list  was  the  discontinuance  of  the  "  scalp  bounty,"  by 
which  a  useful  industry  had  been  weakened  and  well- 
nigh  destroyed.  It  did  not  profit  settlers,  they  said, 
to  kill  stray  Indians,  unless  the  government  would 
encourage  them  by  paying  for  the  scalps.  Time  was 
when  an  adroit  backwoodsman  could  make  a  com- 
fortable living  by  tracking  down  savages  and  their 
squaws ;  but  the  withdrawal  of  the  bounty  at  the 
close  of  the  French  and  Indian  wars  had  made  this 
species  of  hunting  unsatisfactory  and  unremunerative. 
They  prayed  that  the  matter  might  be  reconsidered, 
and  honest  labour  meet  its  just  reward. 

Having  presented  their  petitions,  and  having  assured 
themselves  that  martial  measures  would  be  ill-advised, 
the  rangers  disbanded  and  went  home.  They  had 
offered  no  injury  to  Philadelphia,  nor  to  the  poor 
fugitives  they  had  sought  to  slay  ;  but,  on  the  other 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOURS   OF  WAR  155 

hand,  they  had  been  received  with  a  good  deal  more 
civility  than  rioters  and  law-breakers  had  any  reason 
to  expect,  and  they  felt  tolerably  sure  that  the  Cones- 
toga  murders  would  never  be  avenged.  Nor  were 
they.  Party  feeling  ran  so  high,  the  hostility  be- 
tween rival  churches  grew  so  bitter,  that  from  more 
than  one  pulpit  were  heard  in  time  condoning  words 
anent  that  cruel  slaughter.  The  Germans,  always  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  Quakers,  condemned  it  strenu- 
ously ;  and  the  ever-widening  breach  determined  the 
Assembly  to  make  the  strongest  effort  in  its  power  to 
bring  about  the  final  overthrow  of  its  enemies.  The 
King  was  petitioned  to  abolish  the  Proprietorship, 
and  to  govern  Pennsylvania  as  a  royal  province. 

It  is  easy  to  trace  the  troubles  and  provocations 
which  led  to  this  extraordinary  step.  The  Quakers 
had  always  been  deeply  antagonized  by  the  Scotch-Irish 
settlers,  at  whose  doors  they  laid  the  blame  of  most  of 
the  Indian  disturbances.  They  abhorred  the  Presby- 
terian creed,  with  its  marked  preference  for  the  Old 
Testament,  and  its  vigorous,  unmerciful  interpretation 
of  Hebrew  sentiments  and  standards.  They  resented 
the  position  of  the  Church  party,  which,  for  purely 
political  reasons,  lent  its  moral  support  to  the  Presby- 
terians ;  and  they  were  reduced  to  a  state  of  chronic 
irritation  by  the  perpetual  encroachments  of  the  Eng- 
lish governors  upon  their  ancient  privileges.  Above 
and  beyond  all,  they  were  discouraged  by  the  impossi- 


156 


PHILADELPHIA 


bility  of  keeping  faith  with  the  savages,  whose  scanty 
rights  —  even  the  one  poor  primitive  right  of  living  — 
were  .  now  openly  ignored.  For  the  Proprietors, 
X r  with  a  callousness  that  seems  in- 
credible in  any  of  their  name 
and  lineage,  had  gratified 
the  active  frontiers- 
men by  renew- 
ing the  scalp 


IN  OLD  ST.  PETER'S  ,.    / 

/'    * 

bounty,  and  had  suf-      /•      fered    liberal    rewards    to 
be  promised  for  the  scalps    of    male    and  female 

[ndians.    "Such,"  says  Mr.  Sydney  Fisher  sadly,  "was 
the  melancholy  end  of  Penn's  Indian  policy;  a  policy 


WAR  AND   THE  RUMOURS   OF  WAR  157 

which  for  its  justice  and  humanity  had  at  one  time 
aroused  the  admiration  of  all  the  philosophers  of  Europe. 
But  now  the  tribe  with  which  he  made  the  famous 
treaty  had  dwindled  to  a  miserable  remnant,  .  .  .  and 
his  grandson  was  offering  bounties  for  women's  scalps." 
There  was  the  less  excuse  for  this  barbarous  iniquity 
in  which  white  men  played  the  role  of  savages,  inas- 
much as  Pontiac's  wars  had  been  brought  to  a  close 
in  1764  by  the  successful  expeditions  of  Bradstreet 
and  Bouquet.  The  power  of  the  organized  tribes  was 
broken,  a  treaty  of  peace  was  signed,  and  Bouquet, 
returning  triumphantly  to  Pennsylvania,  brought  back 
with  him  over  two  hundred  ransomed  captives  who  had 
been  carried  away  from  time  to  time  by  the  Indians. 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  many  of  these  poor  prisoners 
were  strangely  reluctant  to  return,  and  to  take  up 
anew  the  bonds  of  civilization.  Men  had  grown 
wedded  to  a  wandering  life,  and  to  the  wild  pleasures 
of  the  chase;  children  clung  piteously  to  the  squaws 
who  had  adopted  them,  and  were  dragged  away  by 
force  amid  bitter  lamentations ;  white  women  parted 
with  tears  from  their  savage  husbands,  and  often,  on 
the  homeward  march,  escaped  by  night  from  the  tents, 
and  stole  back  through  the  forest  paths  to  their 
deserted  wigwams.  It  was  truly  discouraging  to  the 
soldiers  who  played  the  gallant  part  of  liberators  to 
find  their  efforts  so  often  baffled  by  the  mysterious 
intricacies  of  the  human  heart. 


158  PHILADELPHIA 

Bouquet  was  received  with  wild  enthusiasm  in 
Philadelphia,  and  the  Assembly  willingly  voted  fifty 
thousand  pounds  to  pay  the  expenses  of  his  cam- 
paign. It  was  the  refusal  of  the  Proprietors  to  give 
their  share  of  this  money  which  precipitated  the  final 
quarrel  between  them  and  the  Friends,  and  which 
brought  about  the  memorable  petition  for  the  abolish- 
ment of  the  proprietary  government. 

The  converting  of  Pennsylvania  into  a  royal  prov- 
ince had  always  been  looked  upon  as  a  remedy  — 
though  a  somewhat  dangerous  one  —  for  the  many 
ills  that  from  time  to  time  had  beset  colonial  life. 
William  Penn  had  himself  resolved  upon  the  step  in 
the  profound  discouragement  of  his  later  years,  and 
only  the  swift  failing  of  his  mental  powers  prevented 
him  from  carrying  it  into  execution.  The  Christ 
Church  party  had  in  its  day  presented  a  similar  peti- 
tion, believing  that  the  crown  would  readily  grant  it 
privileges  denied  by  the  obstinate  Quakers  ;  and  now 
the  Quakers  were  playing  in  their  turn  the  part  of  the 
clamorous  frogs,  and  begging  for  a  king  to  eat  them  up. 

The  measure,  however,  was  not  one  to  be  lightly 
carried.  If  it  had  sanguine  friends,  it  had  also 
mortal  foes ;  and  the  fury  of  the  combat  may  be 
gauged  by  the  number  of  pamphlets,  all  couched  in 
the  most  intemperate  language,  that  have  come  flut- 
tering down  to  us  from  these  stormy  days.  "In  the 
whole  history  of  the  province,"  says  Mr.  MacMaster, 


WAR  AND   THE  EUMOURS   OF  WAR  159 

"  there  had  never  been  in  so  short  a  time  such  a 
number  of  pamphlets  issued";  and  we  know  what  that 
must  have  meant.  Franklin  took  an  active  share  in 
this  paper  war,  and  stoutly  advocated  the  petition. 
Joseph  Galloway,  a  brilliant  lawyer  and  an  accom- 
plished gentleman,  was  its  most  ardent  upholder. 
John  Dickinson,  afterwards  made  famous  by  the 
"  Farmer's  Letters,"  fought  bravely  on  the  other 
side,  defending  the  ancient  charter  with  rugged  elo- 
quence, and  pointing  out  to  the  colonists  that  it  was 
at  all  times  better  to  endure  the  ills  they  had,  than 
to  fly  to  others  that  they  knew  not  of.  Though  the 
Quakers  triumphed,  and  the  popular  discontent  car- 
ried the  petition  through  the  Assembly,  yet  the  feel- 
ing against  it  was  so  strong  that  neither  Franklin 
nor  Galloway  was  returned  at  the  next  election. 
Galloway  retired  for  a  time  to  private  life,  but 
Franklin  was  naturally  appointed  to  carry  the  peti- 
tion to  the  King.  This  appointment  was  hotly 
opposed  by  Dickinson,  who  detested  the  philosopher 
with  all  his  heart,  and  who  brought  forward  a  heavy 
array  of  arguments  against  the  perpetual  employment 
of  his  services.  Philadelphia,  however,  was  too  well 
accustomed  to  these  services  to  dream  of  setting 
them  aside.  A  public  mission,  great  or  small,  con- 
ducted by  anybody  but  Franklin,  would  have  been .  so 
serious  an  innovation  that  the  Assembly  could  hardly 
have  been  expected  to  countenance  it. 


160  PHILADELPHIA 

So  the  triumphant  diplomat  sailed  over  the  sea 
with  his  precious  paper,  leaving  behind  him  a  final 
pamphlet,  by  way  of  Parthian  dart ;  and  on  the  tenth 
of  December,  1764,  he  reached  the  city  of  London. 
Here  in  due  time  he  presented  the  petition,  —  and 
nothing  came  of  it.  The  English  Ministry,  then  med- 
itating the  famous  Stamp  Act,  had  apparently  no  de- 
sire to  dispossess  the  Proprietors.  King  George  III, 
who  was  determined  a  few  years  later  to  coerce  the 
colonists  at  any  cost  into  obedience,  seemed  quite 
indifferent  to  this  opportunity  of  extending  his  royal 
power.  The  situation  was  unusual,  and  a  little 
absurd.  On  the  one  hand,  a  province,  upon  the 
very  eve  of  rebellion,  asserting  its  absolute  confidence 
in  the  justice  of  a  king,  and  offering  its  constitu- 
tional rights  as  pledges  of  its  credulity.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  monarch  and  a  ministry  prepared  to 
force  their  unwelcome  measures  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet,  but  ignoring  this  easy  means  of  strengthen- 
ing their  hands.  Franklin  himself  seems  to  have  well- 
nigh  forgotten  the  petition,  in  the  new  excitement  of 
opposing  the  threatened  Stamp  Act.  His  prophetic 
eyes  saw  clearly  the  manifold  evils  that  would  result 
from,  any  form  of  taxation  to  which  the  colonists  had 
not  yielded  their  consent.  He  was  a  man  of  peace,  for 
all  his  little  toyings  with  Indian  warfare,  and  he  strug- 
gled honestly  and  impotently  to  avert  the  coming 
strife.  As  well  have  tried  to  beat  back  from  the  shore 
the  broad,  resistless  roll  of  the  encroaching  wave. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  EVE   OF   THE   REVOLUTION 

TT  is  hardly  a  matter  for  surprise  that  Pennsylvania 
~  should  have  been  more  languid  than  Massachusetts 
or  Virginia  in  asserting  her  independence ;  that  Phil- 
adelphia, destined  to  be  the  birthplace  of  the  nation, 
should  have  been  slower  than  restless  Boston  to  defy 
authority,  and  take  up  arms  against  her  King.  To  the 
sane  and  somewhat  sluggish  minds  of  wealthy  mer- 
chants and  well-paid  mechanics,  a  principle  is  not 
always  worth  fighting  for,  unless  its  sacrifice  involves 
a  serious  loss  of  personal  comfort  or  well-being.  And 
for  nearly  a  century  the  Quaker  City,  though  sometimes 
weary  of  wrangling,  had  been  exceedingly  comfortable, 
and  had  lacked  nothing  that  the  colonial  heart  could 
reasonably  ask  or  desire.  The  gentlemen  who  drove 
every  evening,  after  the  easy  cares  of  the  days,  to  their 
beautiful  country-seats,  —  to  Stenton,  to  Mount  Pleas- 
ant, to  Cliveden,  or  to  Bush  Hill,  —  must  have  found 
life  very  well  worth  living.  It  was  the  custom  of  all 
wealthy  citizens  to  build  these  country-seats,  and  their 
tranquil  beauty  did  much  to  foster  the  spirit  of  conserv- 
ative content.  Belmont  Mansion  stood  looking  over 
M  161 


162 


PHILADELPHIA 


woods  and  water,  boasting  the  finest  avenue  of  hem- 
locks in  the  country,  a  stately,  strong  old  house,  full 
of  traditions  and  memories.  William  Peters,  who 
purchased  the  estate  and  lived  there  many  years,  was 
a  strict  churchman  and  an  unflinching  Tory,  detesting 
Quakers  and  patriots  with  the  impartial  sincerity  of 


BBLMONT   MANSION 


Praed's  delightful  "  Quince."  Not  so  his  son  Richard, 
afterwards  Judge  Peters,  who  threw  in  his  lot  with 
the  revolutionists,  and  kept  for  us  some  lively  records 
of  that  stirring  time.  His  unconquerable  vivacity  left 
him  light  of  heart  when  others  chilled  with  despair, 
and  never  for  one  moment  does  he  appear  to  have 
doubted  the  ultimate  success  of  his  cause.  A  genial 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  163 

and  hospitable  host,  he  made  Belmont  the  gayest  house 
of  its  day.  There  Washington  sought  respite  from 
anxiety  and  care  ;  there  La  Fayette  planted  a  walnut 
tree,  and  John  Quincy  Adams  ate  one  of  the  best  and 
merriest  dinners  of  his  life,  —  a  life  in  which  good  and 
merry  dinners  seem  to  have  played  a  somewhat  con- 
spicuous part.  Judge  Peters  enjoyed  an  enviable 
reputation  as  a  wit,  and  some  of  his  pleasantries  have 
come  floating  down  to  us  in  cold  unsympathetic  print, 
illustrating,  as  a  captious  biographer  expresses  it,  "  the 
great  difference  between  hearing  a  joke  and  reading 
one."  The  Indians,  whose  councils  he  occasionally 
attended,  and  who  are  not  a  humorous  race,  christened 
him  the  Talking  Bird.  It  is  a  pity  ever  to  waste  wit 
upon  Indians. 

There  is  hardly  one  of  the  noble  old  country-houses 
that  girdle  Philadelphia  which  has  not  its  historic 
interest,  its  close  association  with  names  and  incidents 
inseparably  interwoven  with  the  annals  of  the  province, 
and  sometimes  with  the  broader  annals  of  the  land. 
To  Mount  Pleasant,  embedded  in  trees,  and  famous 
alike  for  the  breadth  of  its  stairs  and  the  depth  of  its 
capacious  fireplaces,  Benedict  Arnold  brought  home 
his  bride ;  the  pretty,  vivacious,  self-willed  Peggy 
Shippen,  daughter  of  Edward  Shippen,  afterwards 
judge  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  chief  justice  of 
Pennsylvania.  The  estate  was  Arnold's  marriage 
settlement  upon  his  wife,  and  beneath  this  roof  their 


164  PHILADELPHIA 

first  child  was  born  to  them,  in  the  innocent,  happy 
years,  undimmed  by  trouble,  untainted  by  the  shadow 
of  approaching  shame. 

Cliveden,  the  home  of  Chief  Justice  Chew,  and 
better  known  to  Philadelphians  as  Chew  House,  has 
a  different  history,  for  here  occurred  that  memorable 
struggle  by  which  victory  was  snatched  from  the  very 
arms  of  defeat.  The  barricading  of  Chew  House  by 
Colonel  Musgrave  with  six  companies  of  the  Fortieth 
Regiment,  the  fruitless  assault  by  the  American  forces, 
the  delay  and  danger  thus  occasioned,  and  the  final 
routing  of  our  soldiers  from  the  hotly  contested  field, 
are  well-known  details  of  the  battle  of  Germantown  ; 
as  familiar  to  readers  of  American  history  as  is  the 
death  of  that  gallant  English  officer,  Brigadier-General 
Agnew,  in  the  old  Wister  homestead,  where  the  blood 
from  his  many  wounds  stained  deeply  red  the  smooth 
and  polished  floor.  Agnew  had  fought  bravely  for 
the  colonies  in  the  French  and  Indian  wars,  and  the 
inexorable  voice  of  duty  had  sent  him  back  to  fight 
against  them,  when  they  threw  off  their  allegiance 
to  the  King.  His  last  act  was  an  effort  to  save  a 
German  servant-maid  from  danger.  Two  hours  later 
he  was  carried  back  to  her  master's  roof,  a  dying  man, 
yet  so  tranquil  and  content  that,  in  the  simple  words 
of  his  aide-de-camp,  it  was  "  with  seeming  satisfaction  " 
he  passed  quietly  away  from  strife.  He  was  buried  in 
the  Germantown  graveyard,  finding  rest  in  the  alien 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


165 


land  to  which  he  had  been  both  friend  and  foe ;  and 
years  afterwards  his  grandchildren  came  over  the  sea 
to  visit  the  place  where  he  lay. 

More  peaceful  associations  cling  around  other  historic 
homes:  Bush  Hill,  the  country-seat  of  the  Hamiltons 


WISTER  HOUSE 


before  Woodlands  was  built ;  Walnut  Grove,  the  most 
demure  of  houses,  erected  by  Joseph  Wharton,  the  most 
sedate  of  Quakers,  yet  destined  to  be  the  scene  of  the 
gayest,  maddest,  richest,  courtliest  frolic  that  Philadel- 
phia has  ever  witnessed  ;  and  Fairhill,  the  home  of  Isaac 
Norris,  and  afterwards  of  that  contentious,  letter-writing 
patriot,  John  Dickinson.  The  gardens  of  Fairhill, 


166  PHILADELPHIA 

grave  English  gardens  with  gravelled  walks  and  well- 
clipped  hedges,  were  esteemed  the  fairest  in  the  prov- 
ince ;  and  Francis  Pastorius,  who  dearly  loved  their 
orderly  charms,  was  wont  to  pronounce  them  the  fairest 
in  the  world.  Here  grew  strange  exotics  brought  from 
distant  lands,  and  here  were  found  the  first  willow  trees 
that  ever  drooped  over  Pennsylvania's  soil.  Isaac  Norris 
owed  these  trees  to  the  keen  observation  of  Franklin, 
who  noticed  the  sprouting  of  a  willow  wand,  woven  into 
a  rough  basket  which  lay  on  the  deck  of  a  boat  moored 
in  the  Delaware.  He  carried  the  brave  little  sprout  to 
Debby  Norris,  who  planted  it  with  care,  and  it  became 
in  time  the  parent  of  a  numerous  progeny,  much  ad- 
mired because  so  little  known. 

Fairhill  was  destroyed  during  the  Revolution.  Its 
beauties  are  now  only  a  tradition  of  the  past,  as  are  also 
the  beauties  of  another  famous  country-seat,  Lansdowne 
Mansion,  built  by  John  Penn,  grandson  of  the  Founder, 
in  the  romantic  glen  which  bears  its  name.  After  Penn 
returned  to  England,  Lansdowne  was  purchased  by 
William  Bingham  who  had  amassed  what,  for  those 
primitive  days,  seemed  a  colossal  fortune,  in  the  West 
Indies,  and  who  made  this  lovely  spot  for  many  years 
his  summer  home.  He  married  Ann  Willing,  the  six- 
teen-year-old daughter  of  that  able  judge  and  very 
moderate  Whig,  Thomas  Willing ;  and  the  letters  and 
diaries  of  the  day  teem  with  descriptions  of  the  young 
bride's  beauty,  her  distinction  of  manner,  her  luxurious 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  167 

surroundings  and  wonderful  gowns.  Even  in  Paris 
these  gowns  won  ample  recognition,  and  so  deeply 
impressed  Miss  Adams,  daughter  of  John  Adams, 
then  busy  with  negotiations  in  France,  that  she  filled 
up  her  journal  with  ardent  accounts  of  their  splen- 
dour. 

We  know  from  other  equally  enthusiastic  contempo- 
raries how  handsomely  Lansdowne  and  Mr.  Bingham's 
town  house  were  furnished,  how  the  sofas  were  covered 
with  Gobelin  tapestry,  and  the  folding-doors  were  inlaid 
with  mirrors,  into  which  awkward  or  absent-minded 
guests  walked  blunderingly.  We  are  even  familiar  with 
the  chairs,  upholstered  in  crimson  and  yellow  brocade, 
their  rosewood  backs  shaped  like  lyres;  and  we  are 
informed  by  Mr.  Wansey,  an  English  traveller  who  en- 
joyed much  Philadelphia  hospitality,  that  the  drawing- 
room  "  was  papered  in  the  French  taste,  after  the  style 
of  the  Vatican  at  Rome,"  a  suggestive  but  enigmatic 
statement  which  leaves  us  sunk  in  the  depths  of  specu- 
lation. From  all  this  magnificence  the  gay  and  graceful 
hostess  was  summoned  too  soon  by  the  unkindly  fates, 
and  her  husband,  detesting  the  empty  splendour  of  his 
home,  abandoned  it  forever,  and  lived  in  Europe  until 
his  death.  Joseph  Bonaparte  occupied  Lansdowne 
House  for  several  years,  adding  to  the  interest  with 
which  the  fine  old  place  was  always  regarded,  until  it 
was  burned  to  the  ground  on  the  fourth  of  July,  1854, 
sacrificed,  like  so  many  other  homes,  and  like  so  many 


168  PHILADELPHIA 

lives,  to  our  peculiar  methods  of  celebrating  our  great 
national  anniversary. 

In  sharp  contrast  to  the  stately  country-seats  which 
were  the  especial  delight  of  wealthy  and  aristocratic 
Philadelphiaris,  stood  and  still  stands  the  old  stone  house, 
simple  and  beautiful,  of  John  Bartram  the  botanist,  whose 
famous  gardens  sloped  down  to  the  river's  brink,  and 
were  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  his  day.  Bartram's 
history  is  as  interesting  as  that  of  Gilbert  White  of 
Selborne.  Where  the  Englishman  turned  his  keen  and 
thoughtful  eyes  upon  bird  and  beast,  the  American  fixed 
his  upon  every  green  leaf  that  sprang  from  the  fertile 
soil.  Both  men  laboured  quietly  within  their  narrow 
bounds,  both  thought  much  of  their  work  and  little  of 
the  public,  and  both  added  generous  shares  to  the  use- 
ful knowledge  of  the  world. 

It  was  while  ploughing  his  field  that  a  little  white 
daisy  forced  the  current  of  Bartram's  thoughts  into  a 
studious  channel.  The  flower  made  its  innocent  appeal 
to  him  as  to  the  pitying,  passionate  eyes  of  Burns,  but 
the  Quaker  ploughman  was  no  poet.  He  could  only 
regret  that  his  rude  labour  destroyed  so  many  nurslings 
of  the  earth,  and  resolve  to  foster  them  in  the  future  as 
far  as  lay  in  his  power,  and  to  learn  what  he  could  of 
their  structure  and  existence.  This  was  a  harder  mat- 
ter than  the  Scotchman's  inspired  song.  Bartram  bought 
a  Latin  grammar,  and  to  the  profound  annoyance  of  his 
wife,  who,  like  all  good  helpmates,  was  steadfastly  op- 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  169 

posed  to  her  husband's  inexplicable  crotchets,  he  studied 
earnestly  until,  with  the  help  of  a  neighbouring  school- 
master, he  had  acquired  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the 
language  to  enable  him  to  read  and  understand  several 
works  of  Linnaeus.  From  that  time  forward,  the  joy 
of  a  beloved  pursuit  filled  his  life  with  sober  happi- 
ness, and  he  illustrated,  as  did  Gilbert  White,  how  much 
can  be  accomplished  by  the  close  observation  of  a  single 
student,  working  year  after  year  within  a  limited  com- 
pass. Watson,  a  very  doubtful  authority,  asserts  that, 
prior  to  the  Revolution,  Bartram  enjoyed  a  small  pension 
as  botanist  to  the  royal  family.  This,  if  true,  was  a 
pleasing  token  of  appreciation  on  the  royal  family's 
part;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  the  Quaker  farmer 
ever  lacked  sufficient  means  for  his  modest  wants.  He 
built  in  1731  his  quaint  stone  house,  with  his  name  and 
his  wife's  name  cut  into  the  wall ;  and  forty  years  later 
he  chiselled  this  couplet  over  the  window  of  his  study 
where  all  who  passed  might  see  it :  — 

"  'Tis  God  alone,  almighty  Lord, 
The  holy  One  by  me  adored." 

John  Bartram,  1770. 

In  this  house,  "small  but  decent,"  as  St.  John  de- 
scribes it,  he  lived  a  life  of  almost  patriarchal  simplicity. 
His  family,  his  visitors,  his  hired  servants  and  negro 
slaves  all  sat  at  the  same  board,  his  slaves  below  the 
salt,  as  the  Saxon  thralls  of  old.  Yet  his  armorial  bear- 
ings hung  blazoned  on  the  wall,  for  this  Pennsylvania 


170  PHILADELPHIA 

Quaker  boasted  a  descent  from  one  of  the  Norman 
knights  who  had  stormed  England  under  the  Con- 
queror's banner,  and  he  was  most  inconsistently  proud 
of  his  strain  of  noble  blood,  which  perhaps,  indeed,  fur- 
nished the  keynote  of  his  character,  and  accounted  for 
the  very  simplicity  of  a  household  resembling  in  some 
respects  the  ancient  chateau  in  Languedoc,  where  Eu- 
gdnie  de  Gue'rin  toiled  in  the  great  kitchen,  directing 
and  assisting  the  peasant  servants  in  their  homely  work. 
Perhaps,  too,  this  Norman  lineage  rendered  John  Bar- 
tram,  gentle  and  peace-loving  though  he  seemed,  a  little 
impatient  of  spiritual  control;  for  we  find  him  accused 
of  Unitarianism  by  the  Society  of  Friends,  and  exceed- 
ingly indifferent  to  its  strictures.  In  1741  a  subscrip- 
tion was  raised  to  enable  him  to  travel  through  the 
neighbouring  colonies  in  search  of  flowers  and  plants ; 
and,  as  his  knowledge  widened,  he  wandered  still  fur- 
ther afield,  —  to  Virginia,  to  Carolina,  to  Canada,  and 
even,  when  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  to  Florida, 
where  he  navigated  the  St.  Juan  in  a  clumsy  boat  with 
three  oars  and  a  sail,  exploring  those  marshy  and  unfre- 
quented shores,  upon  which,  as  his  old  chronicler  de- 
lightfully expresses  it,  "  the  wild  birds  are  held  in  awe 
by  the  thunder  of  the  devouring  alligator." 

Of  John  Bartram's  twelve  children,  only  one,  William 
Bartram,  inherited  his  father's  tastes  and  studious  hab- 
its, with  an  additional  aptitude  for  writing  verses,  which 
local  critics,  after  the  time-honoured  custom  of  their 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


171 


race,  compared  favourably  to  the  poetry  of  Burns. 
William  died  childless,  and  the  property  passed  into 
the  hands  of  his  grand-niece,  Ann,  whose  husband 
sold  it  after  her  death  to  Andrew  Eastwick.  Mr.  East- 
wick  erected  a  more  commodious  residence  on  the 
estate ;  but  the  old  Bartram  homestead  has  been  pre- 


OLD    BARTRAM   HOUSK 


served  with  great  care,  as  well  for  its  beauty  as  for 
its  interesting  associations.  Strength,  simplicity,  an  in- 
stinctive and  unfailing  sense  of  appropriateness,  —  these 
are  the  characteristics  which,  when  seen  in  a  house, 
indicate  some  corresponding  qualities  on  the  part  of  the 
man  who  built  it,  and  these  are  precisely  the  charac- 
teristics that  took  flight  for  many  a  year  from  the  fan- 
tastic and  paltry  architecture  of  the  land. 


172  PHILADELPHIA 

Into  this  peaceful  province,  so  rich,  so  comfortable, 
so  thoroughly  satisfied,  came  rolling  in  1765  the  apple 
of  discord  in  the  shape  of  an  obnoxious,  unconstitu- 
tional Stamp  Act,  and  the  voice  of  the  coming  Revolu- 
tion bade  men  arise  from  their  pleasant  hearths,  and  do 
battle  for  their  civic  rights.  They  were  not  quick  to 
obey,  though  the  call  sank  deeply  into  their  hearts. 
Principle,  not  prosperity,  was  at  stake,  and  the 
shadow  of  strife  cast  a  disagreeable  and  ominous 
chill  over  the  first  buoyant  enthusiasm  for  resistance. 
Moreover,  there  were,  many  reasons  moving  many  minds 
through  different  channels  into  the  same  sluggish  course. 
The  Episcopalians  entertained  honest  sentiments  of  loy- 
alty, as  well  they  might,  towards  the  crown,  and  towards 
the  English  establishment  which  had  so  often  befriended 
them  in  their  need ;  and  they  knew  that  only  by  help 
of  the  mother  country,  and  the  mother  church,  could 
they  maintain  their  political  importance.  The  Ger- 
mans were  just  as  honest  in  their  way,  being  absolutely 
indifferent  to  the  situation,  and  absolutely  untouched 
by  the  restless  and  fast-growing  spirit  of  discontent. 
The  Quakers,  though  their  entire  history  had  been  one 
of  determined  opposition  to  attempted  encroachments 
upon  the  constitutional  privileges  of  the  colony,  were 
far  from  desiring  any  radical  change  of  government; 
and  they  mistrusted  profoundly  the  movement  for 
independence  which  threatened  the  complete  overthrow 
of  their  present  power  and  of  their  past  work,  of 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  173 

that  fair  structure  upon  which  they  had  toiled  patiently 
and  lovingly  for  nearly  a  century  of  progress. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  overrate  the  influence  of  the 
Quakers  in  Philadelphia  immediately  before  the  Revo- 
lution, an  influence  which  melted  wholly  away  during 
those  years  of  warfare,  carrying  with  it  much  sanity 
and  moderation  that  could  ill  be  spared.  They  held  a 
large  part  of  the  city's  commerce  in  their  capable  hands, 
and  the  fortunes  they  acquired  were  spent  with  liber- 
ality and  discretion.  If  they  did  not  give  their  wives 
and  daughters  Paris  gowns,  nor  cover  their  sofas  with 
Gobelin  tapestry,  nor  scandalize  the  town  by  aspiring, 
like  Mrs.  Bingham  and  her  friends,  to  private  boxes  at 
the  theatre,  yet  life  held  for  them  many  demure  and 
sober  gayeties.  John  Adams,  who  has  left  us  such 
epicurean  descriptions  of  Philadelphia  dinners  and 
suppers  that  a  feeble  digestion  is  wrecked  by  even 
reading  a  list  of  the  things  he  ate,  or  tried  to  eat, 
acknowledges  that  it  was  often  under  Quaker  roofs  he 
encountered  these  "sinful  feasts."  It  was  a  Quaker 
hostess  who  pressed  upon  him  at  a  single  meal,  "  ducks, 
ham,  chickens,  beef,  pig,  tarts,  creams,  custards,  jellies, 
fools,  trifles,  floating  islands,  beer,  porter,  punch,  and 
wine."  It  was,  he  confesses,  at  the  solicitation  of  a 
Quaker  host  that  he  "drank  Madeira  at  a  great  rate, 
and  found  no  inconvenience," —  for  which  the  incredu- 
lous reader  can  only  take  his  word. 

In    the    interesting   journal    of    Elizabeth    Drinker, 


174  PHILADELPHIA 

begun  in  1759,  and  continued  with  occasional  inter- 
ruptions for  nearly  fifty  years,  we  find,  before  the 
peaceful  days  are  over,  a  perpetual  record  of  tea- 
drinking  and  other  gentle  dissipations.  Such  items  as 
"  Drank  tea  at  Joseph  Trotter's,"  or  "  Peggy  Parr  with 
her  sister-in-law,  Nancy,  and  Polly  drank  tea  with  us," 
appear  on  every  page ;  and  it  is  plain  this  sedate  young 
Quakeress  has  a  lingering  love  for  diversion.  She 
flatly  declines  hearing  an  instructive  lecture  on  elec- 
tricity, which  is  greatly  to  her  credit ;  but  she  pays 
two  shillings  to  see  a  lioness  which  a  wandering  show- 
man is  carrying  through  the  town.  She  "spends  the 
day"  —  that  old-time  entertainment  —  at  the  houses 
of  youthful  friends ;  and  she  writes  with  inexpressible 
demureness  that  Henry  Drinker,  her  future  husband, 
has  stayed  until  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  — "  unseason- 
able hours,"  as  she  admits,  adding  softly,  "My  judg- 
ment doesn't  coincide  with  my  actions ;  'tis  a  pity,  but 
I  hope  to  mend."  Strictly  conservative,  and  innocently 
loyal,  she  records  with  sadness,  December  26,  1760, 
44  the  Death  of  our  good  old  King,  George  the  Second," 
—  the  news  being  then  two  months  old;  and  this 
contentment  with  the  ruling  powers,  and  with  the 
placid  tranquillity  of  the  province,  illustrates  very  ac- 
curately the  attitude  of  the  Quakers  before  the  great 
division  in  their  ranks.  They,  at  least,  had  few  com- 
plaints to  offer.  A  wealthy  and  prominent  Friend, 
meeting  one  of  the  "  Apostates "  or  Free  Quakers, 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  175 

bravely  girt  with  a  sword,  said  to  him,  "  Why,  what  is 
this  with  which  thou  hast  bedecked  thyself?  Surely 
not  a  rapier !  "  "  Yes,"  was  the  staunch  reply,  "  for 
liberty  or  death  is  now  the  watchword  of  every  one 
who  means  to  defend  himself  and  his  property." 
"Ah!"  sighed  the  serene  old  Friend,  "I  had  not 
expected  such  high  feelings  in  thee.  Thy  mind  has 
become  as  fierce  as  thy  sword.  As  to  property,  I 
thought  thee  had  none,  and  as  to  thy  liberty,  I  thought 
thee  already  enjoyed  it  through  the  kindness  of  thy 
creditors."  A  purely  commercial  view,  one  may  ob- 
serve, to  take  of  the  situation. 

It  is  well  for  us  that  the  leisure  of  those  days  gave 
people  time  to  keep  journals,  for  it  is  to  such  records 
we  must  turn  if  we  wish  to  understand  the  ordinary 
life  and  common  sentiments  of  men  and  women  who 
do  not  appear  on  the  canvas  of  history,  but  who  reflect 
with  unconscious  sincerity  the  public  temper  which 
made  public  action  possible.  The  diaries  of  Elizabeth 
Drinker  and  Christopher  Marshall,  the  memoirs  of 
Dr.  Graydon  and  Thomas  Twining,  give  us,  not  only 
a  number  of  interesting  facts,  but  also  the  atmosphere 
of  the  last  century  which  eludes  all  modern  histories, 
and  leaves  them  unsympathetic  and  judicial.  We 
learn  from  Dr.  Graydon  that  the  letters  of  Junius 
awakened  such  a  thrill  of  excitement  in  quiet  Phila- 
delphia that  it  became  "  highly  fashionable  "  —  delight- 
ful phrase  —  to  discuss  them  on  all  occasions;  and 


176  PHILADELPHIA 

that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Duche*  published  a  series  of  papers 
on  the  subject,  signing  himself  uTamoc  Caspipina," 
an  acrostic  —  wholly  impenetrable  —  upon  his  rightful 
title,  "  The  Assistant  Minister  of  Christ's  Church  and 
Saint  Peter's,  in  Philadelphia,  in  North  America." 

As  for  Tom  Paine  and  his  seething  sentences,  we 
know  from  many  sources  what  influence  he  acquired; 
how  "  Common  Sense  "  was  eagerly  read  by  the  colo- 
nists, and  how  the  "  Rights  of  Man "  was  quoted  on 
every  side  during  those  unsettled,  turbulent  years 
which  followed  the  Revolution.  Dr.  Graydon  tells  us 
that  ardent  patriots  were  wont  to  denounce  Burke's 
"Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution"  as  "heavy 
and  tedious,"  fit  only  to  serve  as  a  foil  for  the  shining 
qualities  of  Paine.  'He  himself,  however,  though  sin- 
cerely patriotic  and  an  officer  of  the  Revolutionary 
army,  was  disinclined  to  accept  this  verdict.  Having 
nourished  his  youth  upon  English  classics,  Fielding, 
Smollett  and  Richardson,  he  naturally  found  the  "Revo- 
lution "  less  tedious  than  the  "  Rights " ;  and  our 
sudden  fierce  enthusiasm  for  France,  the  tri-colour, 
and  the  guillotine,  struck  him  as  a  little  absurd  and 
very  dangerous.  We  had  travelled  far  afield  by  1791; 
but  in  1765  even  "  Common  Sense "  had  not  yet 
dawned  luridly  upon  our  peaceful  path.  The  prov- 
ince, though  sufficiently  ill-disposed  towards  uncon- 
stitutional taxation,  was  at  heart  loyal  to  the  English 
crown ;  and  Franklin,  even  while  upholding  his  coun- 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  177 

try's  cause,  could  find  no  words  too  forcible  in  which 
to  give  this  loyalty  expression.  He  was  wont  to  say 
that  the  colonists  loved  England  better  than  they  loved 
each  other.  The  time  was  fast  approaching  when  the 
first  of  these  laudable  affections  died  a  natural  death, 
and  the  second  ceased  to  be  so  apparent  as  to  justify 
its  use  when  a  strong  comparison  or  illustration  was 
desired. 


CARPENTERS'  HALL 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  DAWN   OF   THE   REVOLUTION 

n~^HE  Stamp  Act  was  passed  in  March,  1765,  not- 
withstanding the  strenuous  opposition  of  Franklin 
and  the  American  agents  in  London,  who,  however, 
were  not  authorized  by  the  colonies  to  give  their  con- 
sent to  any  other  proposed  measure  for  the  raising  of 
money.  Its  immediate  result  in  Philadelphia  was  a  sud- 
den decrease  of  extravagance,  a  sudden  passion  for  fru- 
gality, which  would  have  delighted  "  Poor  Richard's  " 
heart,  had  he  been  there  to  witness  it.  The  merchants 
and  traders  bound  themselves  to  import  no  goods  from 
England  until  the  Act  had  been  repealed ;  they  would 
not  even  suffer  the  "pestilential  cargoes,"  as  John 

178 


THE  DAWN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  179 

Dickinson  called  them,  to  be  unloaded  at  the  docks, 
and  self-denying  citizens  resolved  to  wear  no  English 
cloths,  to  eat  no  English  mutton,  to  drink  no  English 
beer,  while  the  law  remained  in  force.  They  stinted 
themselves  even  in  the  matter  of  funerals,  and  one 
patriotic  alderman  who  died  in  these  troubled  days  left 
directions  that  he  should  be  buried  without  a  pall,  and 
that  his  family  should  wear  no  crape  nor  other  mourn- 
ing for  him.  To  John  Hughes,  a  member  of  the  As- 
sembly and  a  keen  partisan  of  Franklin's,  was  given 
the  sale  of  the  hated  stamps;  not  a  pleasant  duty,  as 
it  chanced,  for  the  mob,  having  hanged  him  in  effigy, 
gathered  around  his  house  with  muffled  drums,  and 
tried  vainly  to  force  him  into  yielding  up  the  appoint- 
ment. He  was  even  expelled  from  his  fire  company  — 
a  sad  affront,  and  equivalent  to  being  expelled  from  a 
club  —  on  account  of  his  contumacy  and  lack  of  public 
spirit. 

The  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  in  March,  1766, 
changed  all  this  bitter  discontent  into  general  glad- 
ness. The  colonists  believed  that  they  had  won  their 
battle,  and  the  brig,  Minerva,  which  brought  the 
happy  news  to  Philadelphia,  was  welcomed  with  uni- 
versal rejoicings.  Bonfires  blazed  all  night  long, 
bowls  of  punch  were  emptied  under  opulent  roofs, 
kegs  of  beer  were  rolled  into  the  streets  to  intoxicate 
the  poor.  Every  sailor  in  the  crew  received  a  hand- 
some cadeau,  and  to  the  captain  was  presented  a  fine 


180  PHILADELPHIA 

gold-laced  cocked  hat.  The  mayor  and  aldermen 
celebrated  the  occasion  with  a  great  civic  banquet,  at 
which  the  King's  health  was  drunk  with  extravagant 
demonstrations  of  loyalty ;  and  we  know  that  these 
sentiments  had  by  no  means  abated  when  June 
brought  round  the  royal  birthday,  and  Jacob  Hiltz- 
heimer  went  forth  with  nearly  four  hundred  citizens 
to  dine  on  the  banks  of  the  Schuylkill,  and  empty  a 
score  of  glasses  in  honour  of  good  King  George. 

It  is  a  pity  that  this  general  satisfaction  should 
have  been  so  exceedingly  short-lived.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  another  colonial  tax-bill,  placing  duties  on 
paper,  glass,  paints,  lead  and  tea,  renewed  the  con- 
sternation of  the  province ;  and  John  Dickinson  fanned 
the  flame  of  popular  resentment  into  an  angry  blaze 
with  his  timely  "  Letters  of  a  Farmer  of  Pennsylvania 
to  the  Inhabitants  of  the  British  Colonies."  Once 
more  Philadelphia  prepared  to  offer  a  passive  resist- 
ance to  the  obnoxious  law  by  steeling  her  heart 
against  imported  luxuries,  taxed  or  untaxed,  with  the 
result  that  patriotism  on  the  one  hand,  and  self-indul- 
gence on  the  other,  waged  a  steady  conflict  for  mas- 
tery. A  weak-minded  citizen,  overcome  by  the 
pleadings  of  his  appetite,  ventured  to  surreptitiously 
purchase  some  English  cheese  from  the  mate  of  the 
Speedwell;  but  his  dastardly  deed  was  discovered 
before  he  had  time  to  eat  the  coveted  delicacy,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  give  it,  untasted,  to  the  poor 


THE  DAWN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  181 

debtors  in  prison.  There  was  more  difficulty  experi- 
enced in  persuading  women  to  do  without  their  tea. 
Notwithstanding  its  ruinous  cost  and  painful  unpopu- 
larity, it  was  never  wholly  banished.  Shopmen  es- 
caped detection  by  selling  it  in  sealed  packages,  under 
the  name  of  tobacco,  snuff,  or  any  other  innocuous 
merchandise,  — just  as  whiskey  is  sold  in  prohibition 
towns ;  and  fair  recalcitrants  kept  it  discreetly  hidden 
in  hot  water  pots,  while  the  empty  coffee  urns  were 
placed  conspicuously  in  posts  of  honour,  to  give  their 
lying  evidence  to  visitors  who  were  not  in  the  secret. 

Smuggling  grew  so  common  in  these  days  that  it 
wore  an  air  of  persecuted  honesty;  smugglers  were  as 
highly  esteemed  in  virtuous  Pennsylvania  as  in  law- 
less Spain ;  and  prying  citizens  who  gave  evidence 
against  this  illicit  trade  were  promptly  tarred  and 
feathered  by  the  mob,  to  teach  them  the  inadvisa- 
bility  of  interference.  There  was  a  confused  impres- 
sion in  the  minds  of  the  angry,  illogical  colonists  that 
smugglers  were  patriots ;  and  abstract  patriotism  had 
gained  so  much  favour  under  the  stress  of  general 
discontent,  that  sober  Philadelphians  celebrated  with 
a  grand  banquet  the  birthday  of  the  Corsican,  Pascal 
Paoli,  and  uttered  fervid  sentiments  that  would  not 
have  shamed  a  Jacobin  club  in  Paris. 

The  autumn  of  1773  brought  a  new  complication 
into  this  uneasy  turmoil.  An  Act  of  Parliament  per- 
mitted the  East  India  Company  to  carry  its  tea  to 


182  PHILADELPHIA 

America  free  of  all  duty,  save  the  trifling  three-penny 
colonial  tax.  This  gave  the  colonists  cheaper  tea  than 
England  had  ever  enjoyed,  and  the  temptation  was 
well-nigh  irresistible  after  long  months  of  enforced 
abstemiousness.  It  was  all  very  well  for  ardent  and 
acrimonious  Whigs,  like  Christopher  Marshall,  to  com- 
pel their  families  to  drink  that  vile  domestic  beverage 
known  as  "balm  tea";  but  the  hearts  of  women  had 
grown  rebellious  as  the  weary  weeks  went  on,  and 
there  was  every  danger  that  this  wily  measure  on  the 
part  of  England  would  break  down  at  last  the  stubborn 
'opposition  of  the  colonies.  The  committee  of  mer- 
chants determined  that  no  choice  between  principle 
and  comfort  should  be  permitted;  that  the  weaker 
portion  of  the  community  should  have  no  chance 
given  them  to  succumb.  When  the  tea  ship,  Polly, 
reached  Gloucester  Point,  her  captain  was  invited,  or 
rather  bidden  to  come  ashore,  and  told  as  briefly  as 
possible  that  he  would  not  be  allowed  to  land  his 
cargo,  and  that  any  attempt  to  do  so  would  place  him 
in  great  personal  danger.  He  acquiesced  philosophi- 
cally in  a  situation  which  could  not  be  remedied, 
tarried  but  a  few  hours  to  lay  in  fresh  supplies,  and 
set  sail  with  the  outgoing  tide  for  his  long  homeward 
voyage.  The  whole  important  matter,  notwithstand- 
ing the  usual  array  of  half-mad  pamphlets,  and  the 
riotous  demonstrations  of  the  mob,  had  been  conducted 
with  moderation  and  dignity.  It  was  not  nearly  such 


THE  DAWN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  183 

good  fun  as  pitching  the  tea-chests  into  Boston  har- 
bour, and  it  does  not  make  a  lively  historic  anecdote 
for  schoolboys  to  read;  but  it  has  the  advantage 
of  greater  honesty,  of  self-respecting  decorum,  and 
of  being  a  daylight  performance,  in  which  all  the 
actors  gave  their  names  to  the  public  before  they 
played  their  parts. 

In  May,  1774,  Boston  port  was  closed,  and  Paul 
Revere  brought  the  news  to  Philadelphia,  where 
it  was  received  with  astonishment  and  indignation. 
Christopher  Marshall  tells  us  that  nearly  every  shop 
was  shut  on  the  first  of  June,  when  Revere's  message 
was  given  to  the  people,  that  the  flags  were  lowered 
to  half-mast,  and  the  churches  being  opened  as  though 
it  were  Sunday,  huge  congregations  attended,  and 
listened  grimly  to  appropriate  sermons.  There  was 
no  service,  indeed,  at  Christ  Church,  but  her  bells  rang 
a  muffled  peal  all  day  long,  as  was  their  wont  in  time 
of  public  calamity.  "Sorrow  and  anger,"  says  the 
sympathetic  Marshall,  "seemed  pictured  in  the  coun- 
tenances of  the  inhabitants,  and  the  whole  city  wore 
the  aspect  of  deep  distress,  it  being  a  most  melancholy 
occasion." 

Revere's  letters  were  addressed  to  Joseph  Reed,  and 
to  that  fighting  Quaker,  Thomas  Mifflin.  Through 
the  influence  of  these  citizens,  a  meeting  was  called  in 
the  City  Tavern,  at  which  Dickinson  and  Charles 
Thomson  spoke  with  great  eloquence  and  fervour ; 


184  PHILADELPHIA 

and  Boston  was  assured  of  sympathy  and  support  in 
a  letter  written  by  Provost  Smith,  but  which  the 
friends  of  Dickinson  always  stoutly  declared  to  have 
been  his  composition.  A  more  important  gathering 
met  in  the  State  House  on  June  28th.  Thomas 
Willing  and  Dickinson  presided,  much  oratory  was 
.let  loose,  and  some  definite  measures  decided  upon. 
The  governor  was  asked  to  call  together  the  Assembly, 
a  committee  of  correspondence  was  appointed,  and  — 
most  momentous  step  of  all  —  a  resolution  was  passed, 
recommending  a  congress  of  all  the  colonies,  which 
should  assist  the  Assembly  —  and  override  it  —  in  deal- 
ing with  the  grave  emergencies  of  the  time. 

The  Continental  Congress  assembled  in  Philadelphia 
in  the  autumn  of  1774,  and  held  its  sessions  in  Car- 
penters' Hall,  a  fine,  simple  old  building  which  had 
been  erected  a  few  years  before  by  the  guild  of  car- 
penters and  house  masons.  Eleven  only  of  the  thir- 
teen provinces  sent  delegates,  but  these  were  men 
capable  of  overriding  any  Assembly,  and  of  forcing 
their  own  measures  upon  a. hesitating  country.  Among 
them  were  John  and  Samuel  Adams,  Richard  Henry 
Lee,  George  Washington,  and  Patrick  Henry,  whose 
glowing  periods  won  him  scant  favour  in  a  town 
which  had  not  yet  wholly  relinquished  its  ancient 
gift  of  silence.  Peyton  Randolph  of  Virginia  was 
elected  president,  and  Charles  Thomson  —  he  who 
knew  so  much  and  divulged  so  little  of  his  country's 


THE  DAWN   OF  THE  REVOLUTION 


185 


history  —  was  chosen  to  be  the  secretary.  The  Rev. 
Jacob  Duche*  — " Taraoc  Caspipina"  -was  invited  to 
act  as  chaplain,  to  his  unquali-  |  fied  delight.  "He 
appeared,"  says  John  Adams,  f  "  with  his  clerk,  and 
in  his  pontificals,"  and  offered  Q  eloquent  prayers, 


CARPENTERS'  HALL 

which  were  much  admired  and  quoted  until  such  time 
as  he  abandoned  the  cause  of  liberty  and  became  a 
devout  Tory,  when  the  angry  Whigs  ceased  praising 
his  orisons,  and  promptly  confiscated  his  estate. 

For   six    weeks   the    Congress    deliberated    on    the 
manifold  difficulties   of  the   situation,   cheered   mean- 


186  PHILADELPHIA 

while  by  much  Philadelphia  hospitality.  Adams 
was  not  the  only  delegate  who  ate  and  drank  himself 
into  permanent  indigestion  amid  the  seductions  of 
a  society,  "  happy,  elegant,  tranquil,  and  polite."  A 
grand  banquet  was  given  by  prominent  citizens  to  the 
city's  guests,  when  their  first  work  was  done.  Five 
hundred  covers  were  laid  in  the  great  State  House 
chamber,  and  innumerable  healths  were  drunk,  the 
first  and  foremost  toast  being  still  King  George  III., 
for  the  colonists  had  by  no  means  given  up  hoping 
for  a  peaceful  adjustment  of  their  troubles.  The 
resolutions  adopted  by  the  Congress  were  moderate 
in  tone,  but  expressed  steadfast  resistance  to  any  form 
of  taxation  imposed  by  the  English  government  while 
the  provinces  remained  unrepresented  in  Parliament, 
and  a  steadfast  rejection  of  all  imports  upon  which 
such  unconstitutional  taxes  were  levied.  The  As- 
sembly professed  great  satisfaction  with  most  of  the 
measures  proposed,  especially  with  those  which  sought 
to  encourage  domestic  manufactures ;  and  Franklin, 
returning  to  Philadelphia  in  May,  1775,  was  imme- 
diately appointed  a  delegate,  that  he  might  add  his 
share  of  sagacity  and  experience  to  the  counsels  of 
men  so  heavily  burdened  with  responsibility,  so  new 
to  the  perils  of  their  parts. 

And,  indeed,  the  country  had  sore  need  of  all  the 
wisdom  she  could  muster,  in  a  situation  of  which  no 
man  could  reasonably  foresee  the  end.  It  was  a  time 


THE  DAWN   OF  THE  REVOLUTION  187 

pregnant  with  hopes  unspoken,  and  with  fears  un- 
checked ;  a  time  of  deep  disquiet,  with  darkening 
skies,  and  universal  discontent.  Strange  omens  — like 
to  those  which  presaged  the  coming  of  the  great 
Plague  —  were  witnessed  by  the  apprehensive  ;  and 
Marshall  notes  in  his  diary,  without  a  tremour  of  dis- 
belief, that  a  headless  snake  was  seen  by  many,  writh- 
ing in  the  heavens.  When  this  snake  shook  its  tail, 
there  came  a  trembling  vibration  like  an  earthquake 
shock,  and  balls  of  fire  descended  from  the  skies  upon 
the  doomed  houses  of  men.  Past  were  the  old  easy 
days  when  life  held  few  perplexities,  and  when  the 
standing  quarrel  between  Quaker  and  churchman, 
Assembly  and  governor,  carried  with  it  no  deadly 
frustration  of  power  or  purpose.  Now  any  division 
in  the  ranks  meant  certain  peril,  and  possible  ruin. 
How  far  could  the  Quakers  be  cajoled  or  bullied  into 
open  rebellion  against  England  ?  How  far  could  they 
be  persuaded  to  advance  in  a  movement  which  threat- 
ened destruction  to  the  laws  they  had  made,  and  which 
had  been  their  pride  and  glory  for  a  hundred  years  ? 
A  most  inconvenient  people  to  deal  with,  these 
Quakers,  for  all  their  mildness  and  general  sanity ;  a 
people  whose  religious  scruples  were  as  binding  as 
moral  laws,  and  in  whom  "the  noble  firmness  of  the 
mule "  was  backed  by  a  reasonably  clear  conception 
of  their  own  interests,  and  of  the  material  interests  of 
the  commonwealth.  Equally  averse  to  barracks  and 


188  PHILADELPHIA 

to  law-courts,  they  refused  to  support  the  one  by 
paying  military  taxes,  or  to  assist  the  other  by  acting 
as  jurors,  witnesses,  or  clients ;  and  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that,  left  to  themselves,  they  had  apparently 
no  need  for  either  of  these  ornaments  of  civilization. 
They  kept  their  peace  with  the  Indians,  unaided  by 
the  convincing  voice  of  firearms,  and  they  settled 
their  own  disputes,  without  assistance  from  advocate 
or  judge.  The  "Committee  of  Monthly  Meetings," 
aided  and  abetted  by  the  still  more  awe-inspiring 
Quarterly  and  Yearly  Meetings,  held  them  in  thrall, 
and  gave  them  all  they  wanted  in  the  way  of  laws 
and  penalties. 

It  was  natural  that  a  people  so  wedded  to  peace, 
so  content  with  their  own  rules  of  life,  and  so  mis- 
trustful of  change,  should  have  been  hard  to  influence 
in  a  great  public  crisis,  of  which  nothing  but  the  in- 
security could  be  wholly  understood.  "The  leading 
members  of  the  Society,"  says  Mr.  Charles  Wetherill 
in  his  history  of  the  Free  Quakers,  "were  men  who 
had  grown  old  in  the  habit  of  loyalty  to  the  crown, 
and  had  been  rewarded  by  dignities  and  wealth." 
The  somewhat  clamorous  eloquence  of  the  patriots 
moved  them  less  than  the  rippling  of  the  wind;  the 
fast-growing  authority  of  the  mob  filled  them  with 
serious  apprehensions.  At  the  Yearly  Meeting  held 
in  Philadelphia,  1774,  a  solemn  letter  of  warning 
was  prepared  and  sent  to  all  the  Friends  in  the  colonies, 


THE  DAWN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  189 

bidding  them  to  beware  of  sedition  and  strife,  and 
to  assume  no  part  in  the  defiant  rebellion  against 
their  King.  This  letter  was  generally  respected  and 
obeyed,  for  it  needed  a  moment  of  supreme  urgency 
to  awaken  in  the  hearts  of  all  men  the  common  in- 
stinct of  self-protection,  and  to  startle  even  the  young 
Quakers  into  war. 

Yet  the  determination  of  the  Society  to  hold  itself 
aloof  from  any  hostile  demonstrations  veiled  an  equally 
obstinate  determination  to  yield  no  civic  rights,  no 
long-contested  privileges.  The  delegates  to  the  Con- 
tinental Congress  knew  little  of  the  Quaker  tempera- 
ment, or  of  the  Quaker  history,  else  they  would  have 
been  aware  that  what  was  needed  to  push  these  strong 
conservatives  into  opposition  was,  not  enthusiastic 
speech-making  on  their  part,  but  continued  injustice 
on  the  part  of  England.  It  was  hard,  however,  to 
wait  for  such  slow  conversion  in  a  time  of  profound 
impatience  and  restless  fear.  It  was  hard  to  refrain 
from  attacking  and  alienating  a  people  whose  attitude 
of  reserve  was  more  trying  than  open  disaffection. 
Men  had  grown  suspicious  of  one  another  in  these 
weeks  of  anxious  waiting  for — they  knew  not  what. 
At  last,  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  April,  1775,  there 
came  an  answer  to  many  an  unspoken  question.  It 
was  brought  by  a  weary  and  travel-stained  rider  who 
alighted  at  the  City  Tavern,  and  asked  to  see  some 
members  of  the  Committee  of  Correspondence.  The 


190  PHILADELPHIA 

news  he  carried  was  strange  indeed,  yet  no  man  was 
surprised  by  it.  Rather  it  seemed  as  though  all  had 
been  waiting  for  this  hour,  and  for  the  word  it  bore. 
The  English  soldiers  and  the  New  England  militia 
had  fired  on  one  another  at  Lexington.  The  first  blood 
had  been  shed  in  the  great  struggle  for  independence. 
The  Revolution  had  begun. 


INKSTAND  IN   INDEPENDENCE  HALL 

CHAPTER   XII 

WAR 

r|  ^HE  history  of  Philadelphia  for  the  next  six 
years  is,  in  reality,  the  history  of  the  country. 
It  is  impossible  to  divorce  her  records  from  the 
broader  annals  of  the  united  colonies,  who  looked 
to  her  as  to  the  central  stage  on  which  was  played 
the  great  drama  of  rebellion.  If  she  still  hesitated, 
it  was,  not  at  action,  but  at  calling  that  action  by 
its  proper  name.  She  flew  to  arms,  but  seldom  spoke 
of  battle;  she  prepared  decisively  for  war,  but  hardly 
confessed  that  England  was  her  antagonist.  When 
the  encounter  at  Lexington  was  made  known  to  the 
public,  an  angry  and  excited  crowd  of  eight  thousand 
men  assembled  before  the  State  House,  declared  their 
intention  of  defending  their  rights  and  liberties,  and 
advocated  the  immediate  enrolling  of  new  bodies  of 

191 


192  PHILADELPHIA 

militia.  We  learn  from  many  sources  with  what 
ardour  young  and  old  offered  their  services  in  the 
first  flush  of  enthusiasm,  and  how  they  drilled  day 
and  night  to  be  prepared  for  an  imperative  emergency. 
Dr.  Graydon  who  belonged  to  the  third  battalion, 
commanded  by  John  Cadwalader,  and  sarcastically 
called  the  "  Silk  Stocking  Company,"  in  reference 
to  supposed  fine  feathers  and  good  birth,  tells  us  that 
he  and  his  companions  practised  shooting  at  a  target 
on  Race  Street,  and  that  one  of  the  party  shot  a  child, 
which  was  discouraging,  but  hardly  a  matter  for  sur- 
prise. 

Congress  reassembled  on  the  eleventh  of  May, 
and  a  Committee  of  Safety  was  appointed,  with 
Franklin  at  its  head,  to  look  after  the  needs  and 
the  defences  of  the  city.  This  committee  determined 
to  be  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise,  by  following  one  of 
its  great  leader's  maxims,  and  met  every  morning 
at  the  bracing  hour  of  six.  The  members  found 
plenty  to  do  in  preparing  for  war,  and  in  trying  to 
preserve  order,  for  already  the  disturbed  condition 
of  the  public  mind  had  broken  the  barriers  of  secur- 
ity. The  mob  grew  bolder  and  bolder,  until  at 
last,  in  playful  mood,  it  openly  set  fire  to  the  jail, 
as  the  easiest  way  of  liberating  two  counterfeiters 
who  were  confined  within  its  walls.  What  wonder 
that  a  sober  citizen  like  James  Allen,  son  of  Chief 
Justice  Allen,  should,  even  while  ready  to  shoulder 


WAR  193 

a  musket  in  the  "  great  and  glorious  cause,"  have 
confided  most  despondent  sentiments  to  the  secrecy 
of  his  diary.  "The  madness  of  the  multitude,"  he 
writes,  "is  but  one  degree  better  than  submission  to 
the  Tea  Act.  .  .  .  Many  thinking  people  believe 
America  has  seen  its  best  days,^and  even  if  we  be 
victorious,  peace  and  order  will  with  difficulty  be 
restored.  The  inconveniences  are  already  sensibly 
felt.  Debts  as  yet  are  paid,  but  this  cannot  last  long, 
for  people  begin  to  plead  their  inability. " 

The  manufacture  of  gunpowder,  and  the  building 
of  gunboats  to  defend  the  river's  front,  occupied 
much  of  the  committee's  attention;  but  it  found 
leisure  to  inquire  very  curiously  into  the  goings  and 
comings  of  men  who  were  suspected  of  Tory  pro- 
clivities. It  was  a  time  of  active  interference  with 
other  people's  affairs,  and  Joseph  Galloway  protested 
that  he  could  not  retire  for  a  night  to  his  country- 
house  without  explaining  publicly  why  he  did  not 
sleep  in  town.  A  favourite  diversion  of  the  mob  was 
the  dragging  of  Tory  citizens  in  carts  through  the 
streets,  to  the  spirited  music  of  the  "  Rogue's  March," 
until  they  "politely  acknowledged"  the  erroneous 
nature  of  their  convictions,  and  uttered  more  patriotic 
sentiments,  to  the  huge  delight  of  their  captors. 
Occasionally  the  crowds  which  assembled  for  this 
sport  were  cheated  out  of  their  triumph.  Dr.  John 
Kearsley,  though  so  roughly  handled  that  the  blood 


194  PHILADELPHIA 

streamed  from  his  hurts,  merely  swore  with  ever-in/- 
creasing  vehemence  at  his  tormentors,  who  were  about 
to  offer  the  final  argument  of  tar  and  feathers  when 
their  victim  —  still  swearing  —  was  snatched  away 
from  them  by  the  militia,  and  carried  back  to  his 
house,  where  the  lively  populace  had  broken  all  the 
windows.  A  yet  more  defiant  combatant  was  Major 
Skene,  who,  after  his  third  bottle  of  port,  flung  open 
the  shutters,  and  roared  out  with  drunken  loyalty 
over  the  heads  of  the  angry  rabble,  "  God  save  great 
George,  our  King." 

The  Continental  Congress,  having  recommended  the 
people  to  "abstain  from  vain  amusements,"  was  not 
disposed  to  tolerate  anything  in  the  nature  of  gayety, 
and  this  resolution  checked  Philadelphia's  generous 
hospitality.  With  the  approach  of  war,  the  Assem- 
blies were  given  up  ;  but  youth  is  always  youth,  and 
as  eager  to  dance  in  dark  days  as  in  bright  ones. 
The  presence  of  Mrs.  Washington  and  Mrs.  Hancock 
in  the  city  during  the  autumn  of  1775  gave  excellent 
excuse  for  a  ball,  at  which  these  ladies  readily  prom- 
ised to  attend.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  That  portion 
of  the  community  which  never  went  to  balls  had  for 
once  the  power  to  chill  unseasonable  mirth.  A  com- 
mittee of  citizens  waited  upon  Mrs.  Washington,  and 
requested  her  not  to  grace  the  festivities,  while  her 
"  worthy  and  brave  husband  was  exposed  in  the  field 
of  battle,  in  defence  of  his  country's  liberties."  The 


WAR  195 

lady,  with  great  good  nature,  acquiesced  in  her  visitors' 
views,  assured  them  that  "  their  sentiments  on  this 
occasion  were  perfectly  agreeable  to  her  own,"  and 
promised  to  remain  at  home.  As  a  consequence,  the 
ball  was  abandoned,  to  the  unfeigned  regret  of  many 
young  girls  who,  being  under  no  anxiety  on  the 
score  of  worthy  and  brave  husbands,  would  have 
welcomed  a  little  cheerful  variety. 

There  was  some  excuse  for  the  arbitrary  behaviour 
of  the  Whigs,  inasmuch  as  they  had  to  deal  with  so 
many  disunited  elements.  Men  who  had  nothing  to 
lose  were  eager  for  radical  measures.  Men  who, 
like  Mr.  Chew,  Mr.  Tilghman,  and  Mr.  Shippen, 
enjoyed  offices  of  trust  and  distinction,  were  more 
prone  to  consider  consequences.  Men  with  easy 
minds,  like  Mr.  John  Ross,  declared  in  much  the 
same  words  as  the  philosophical  Vicar  of  Bray,  "  Let 
who  will  be  king;  I  know  that  I  shall  still  be  sub- 
ject." Men  as  wise  and  wary  as  Benjamin  Franklin 
calculated  every  step  they  took  in  such  parlous 
times,  and  permitted  their  final  decisions  to  remain 
long  a  matter  for  conjecture.  "  Franklin's  demeanour 
towards  the  conflicting  parties,"  says  Dr.  Graydon, 
"was  so  truly  accommodating,  that  it  was  doubtful 
where  he  really  belonged.  No  man  had  scanned 
the  world  more  critically  than  he,  and  few  had 
profited  more  by  a  knowledge  of  it,  or  managed 
that  knowledge  more  to  their  own  advantage." 


196 


PHILADELPHIA 


Meanwhile  events  were  hastening  forward  with  a 
ruthless  speed  that  was  sadly  disconcerting  to  those 
who  had  not  yet  made  up  their  minds  what  part  to 

play.  Washington 
was  appointed  com- 
mander of  the  na- 
tional forces,  and 
joined  the  army  be- 
fore Boston,  taking 
with  him  the  first 
American  flag, 
which  then  bore  in 
the  corner  a  red 
and  blue  cross  in 
place  of  the  thirteen 
stars.  Paul  Jones 
hoisted  his  rattle- 
snake flag  —  no 
pleasing  emblem  — 
over  one  of  the  new 


HOUSE   OF  BETTY   ROSS,   WHERE   THE   FIRST     American 

The  troops  drilling 

in  Philadelphia  demanded  from  the  Assembly  money 
for  arms,  accoutrements,  and  support.  Lead  was  so 
scarce  that  all  the  fine  old  standing  clocks  were  robbed 
of  their  weights,  and  stood  mute  and  helpless  in 
their  corners.  The  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  added  to 
the  general  agitation  ;  the  departure  of  the  English 


WAR  197 

army  from  Boston  quickened  the  colonists'  hopes. 
Tom  Paine,  that  "  disastrous  meteor  "  as  Adams  calls 
him,  published  his  "Common  Sense,"  and  at  once 
became  the  most  popular  man  in  the  country.  Even 
Dickinson's  fame  paled  before  the  new  light,  and 
the  "  Farmer's  Letters  "  were  well-nigh  forgotten  in 
the  rabid  enthusiasm  which  greeted  Paine's  bolder 
theories.  Men  were  just  in  the  humour  to  believe 
that  governments  were  antiquated  devices,  and  that 
the  voice  of  the  populace  was  the  voice  of  God. 
Each  reader  felt  his  soul  expand  at  this  splendid 
recognition  of  his  individual  importance,  and  of  his 
right  to  clamour  with  the  loudest.  In  every  Phila- 
delphia shop  was  seen  the  familiar  advertisement, 
"  Common  Sense  for  eighteen  pence,"  and  thousands 
of  purchasers  thought  the  article  cheap  at  that  very 
moderate  price.  Adams,  James  Allen,  and  others  who 
disagreed  violently  with  Paine's  definition  of  sense 
were  not  slow  in  putting  their  opinions  into  print. 
Indeed,  the  approaching  election  brought  down  upon 
the  anxious  public  a  storm  of  pamphlets,  in  which 
political  opponents  under  the  names  of  Cato,  Cas- 
sandra, Forrester,  etc.,  enjoyed  such  a  prolonged 
and  lively  combat  that  if  the  voters  did  not  know 
what  line  of  conduct  to  pursue,  it  was  certainly  not 
from  lack  of  cheap  and  copious  instruction. 

For   the   last   time   the   moderate   party  triumphed 
in  the  Assembly,  a  dearly  bought  victory  destined  to 


198  PHILADELPHIA 

lead  the  way  to  the  final  overthrow  of  the  constitu- 
tion. Congress,  on  the  tenth  of  May,  1776,  passed  a 
resolution  recommending  to  all  the  colonies  a  radical 
change  of  government,  that  they  might  be  better 
equipped  to  meet  the  serious  emergencies  of  the 
war.  The  Committee  of  Safety,  now  grown  imperi- 
ous and  despotic,  held  a  week's  conference  in  Car- 
penters' Hall,  and  determined  that  a  convention 
should  be  called  to  frame  a  new  constitution.  At 
the  inevitable  dinner  with  which  this  conference 
terminated  —  dinners,  unlike  balls,  were  considered 
patriotic  amusements  —  the  King's  health  was  not 
drunk,  but,  in  his  place,  "  The  free  and  independent 
States  of  America  "  were  toasted  with  loud  acclama- 
tions. The  petition  sent  to  the  crown  met  with  no 
response,  as  the  colonies  were  in  open  rebellion  long 
before  the  "  dutiful  and  humble "  paper  reached 
England ;  and  it  became  more  and  more  apparent 
on  both  sides  that  the  war  was,  not  for  terms,  but 
for  freedom.  The  old  Assembly,  which  had  for 
almost  a  century  watched  faithfully  over  the  interest 
of  the  province  committed  to  its  charge,  was  rapidly 
nearing  its  end,  choked  out  of  existence  by  the  vehe- 
mence of  reformers  who  scorned  the  wisdom  of  the 
past,  and  felt  an  easy  confidence  in  their  power  to 
regulate  the  future.  With  its  destruction,  the  politi- 
cal power  of  the  Quakers  came  to  an  abrupt  close. 
They  had  done  their  work  for  many  years  wisely 


WAR  199 

and  well.  The  tasks  which  awaited  their  successors 
were  of  a  different  order,  and  demanded  different 
hands.  There  was  both  rank  ingratitude  and  rank 
injustice  in  the  treatment  the  Friends  subsequently 
received ;  but  gratitude  has  never  been  a  lively  fac- 
tor in  politics,  and  men,  when  sick  with  apprehen- 
sion or  elate  with  victory,  are  hardly  sane  enough 
to  know  what  justice  means. 

The  Convention  of  1776  amply  satisfied  the  public 
appetite  for  novelties.  It  was  generous  and  even  pro- 
fuse in  the  matter  of  new  laws,  both  big  and  little. 
Nothing  was  too  important  to  be  settled  offhand,  noth- 
ing too  trivial  to  occupy  its  attention.  Pennsylvania 
was  declared  an  independent  state ;  delegates  were 
sent  to  Congress;  heavy  taxes  were  laid  on  Germans 
and  Quakers  who  refused  to  serve  in  the  militia.  A 
new  constitution  was  prepared  which  received  Frank- 
lin's enthusiastic  support.  In  place  of  the  single  gov- 
ernor with  whom  Pennsylvania  had  always  quarrelled 
lustily  in  the  past,  twelve  governors,  forming  a  council, 
were  given  her  as  suitable  antagonists  for  the  future ; 
and  a  "  General  Assembly  "  was  furthermore  provided 
to  fight  fairly  and  squarely  with  the  twelve.  Then, 
lest  an  ignoble  tranquillity  should  still  be  possible, 
a  second  council,  called  the  Council  of  Censors,  was 
appointed,  the  members  of  which  had  the  pleasant 
duty  of  finding  fault  with  both  the  executive  and  the 
legislative  bodies.  Altogether  there  was  abundant 


200  PHILADELPHIA 

opportunity  for  hostilities,  and  no  sooner  had  the 
new  laws  gone  into  operation  than  hostilities  began 
with  fervour.  The  province  was  sharply  divided  into 
two  irreconcilable  parties :  those  who  upheld  this  con- 
stitution, and  those  who  saw  in  it  certain  and  disas- 
trous ruin.  Philadelphia  was  the  battlefield  on  which 
the  opponents  prepared  for  the  coming  combat. 

But  other  and  larger  issues,  weighted  with  the 
welfare  of  the  whole  nation,  were  pressing  hard  for 
recognition,  and  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  ignore 
or  to  stifle  the  agitation  in  favour  of  independence. 
The  Pennsylvania  delegates  to  Congress  in  the  spring 
of  1776  were  Franklin,  Morris,  Willing,  Morton,  Hum- 
phreys, Wilson  and  Dickinson ;  men  of  moderate  views 
who  were  keenly  anxious  that  the  province  should  be 
won  over  wholly  to  the  cause  of  freedom,  before  it 
was  forced  to  yield  its  consent  to  a  measure  which 
could  never  be  retracted.  It  was  not  in  their  power, 
however,  to  restrain  the  impetuosity  of  the  Virginia 
and  Massachusetts  delegates,  and,  on  the  seventh  of 
June,  Richard  Henry  Lee  offered  his  resolutions,  ab- 
solving the  colonies  from  their  old  allegiance,  and 
proclaiming  them  free  and  independent  States. 

The  following  weeks  were  absorbed  in  strenuous 
debate.  Seven  of  the  thirteen  colonies  were  in  favour 
of  the  resolutions;  six,  with  Pennsylvania  at  their 
head,  held  firmly  back,  believing  that  the  time  had 
not  yet  come  for  open  and  absolute  rebellion.  But 


WAR  201 

the  fierce  enthusiasm  of  the  majority  was  well  cal- 
culated to  override  the  prudent  hesitation  of  the 
minority.  Enthusiasm,  moreover,  is  contagious,  and 
hesitation  is  ever  an  ungrateful  part  to  play.  Agents 
were  sent  by  Congress  to  quicken  the  spirit  of  revolt 
in  New  York,  New  Jersey,  Maryland  and  Delaware. 
Every  argument  was  used  to  persuade  the  colonists 
that  only  by  the  closest  union  could  they  hope  to 
achieve  their  freedom,  or  even  to  preserve  their  safety; 
they  must  hang  together,  as  Richard  Penn  dryly  ob- 
served, unless  they  wanted  to  be  hanged  separately. 
The  nine  hours'  debate  of  July  1st  left  four  colonies 
still  unconvinced.  Pennsylvania  and  South  Carolina 
voted  against  Lee's  resolutions,  Delaware  was  hope- 
lessly divided,  and  New  York  refused  to  vote  at  all, 
her  delegates  having  received  no  authority  from  home 
to  support  the  popular  measure. 

The  final  decision  was  deferred  until  the  next  day, 
and  a  last  urgent  appeal  made  to  the  conservatives 
who  still  held  back  from  action.  It  was  not  without 
avail.  By  the  evening  of  July  2d,  South  Carolina 
and  Delaware,  either  converted  or  overwearied,  voted 
for  independence.  Pennsylvania  was  still  disunited. 
Three  of  her  delegates,  Franklin,  Wilson  and  Morton, 
supported  the  resolutions;  Willing  and  Humphreys, 
consistent  to  the  end,  bravely  and  obstinately  opposed 
them ;  Morris  and  Dickinson  evaded  the  necessity  for 
a  decision  by  keeping  out  of  the  way.  Their  absence 


202  PHILADELPHIA 

enabled  the  advocates  of  liberty  to  carry  the  Pennsyl- 
vania vote  by  a  handsome  majority  of  one.  New 
York,  waiting  like  Casabianca  for  orders  that  never 
came,  declined  with  an  almost  sublime  apathy  to  take 
any  part  in  the  proceedings.  Twelve  of  the  thirteen 
colonies,  however,  had  now  been  won  over ;  and  before 
sunset,  July  2,  1776,  Lee's  resolutions  were  passed 
by  an  almost  unanimous  vote.  The  nation  had  deter- 
mined to  be  free. 

Two  days  later  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
was  formally  adopted,  and  on  July  8th  the  document 
was  read  to  the  people  —  to  the  few  at  least  who  gath- 
ered to  hear  it  —  from  the  observatory  in  the  State 
House  yard.  One  unseen  auditor  there  was  who  has 
left  us  an  account  of  that  day.  Deborah  Norris,  then 
a  girl  of  fifteen,  had  climbed  her  garden  wall  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  what  was  going  on.  The  reader  was 
hidden  from  her  by  the  side  of  the  observatory,  but 
she  heard  distinctly  from  her  high  perch  every  word  he 
uttered,  and  was  awed  into  a  childish  terror  as  the 
grave  voice  —  Charles  Thomson's  voice,  she  fancied, 
but  it  was  really  that  of  Captain  John  Nixon — re- 
peated slowly  those  memorable  words,  the  full  signifi- 
cance of  which  she  was  too  young  to  understand.  "It 
was,"  she  wrote  years  afterwards,  "a  time  of  fearful 
doubt  and  great  anxiety  with  the  people,  many  of 
whom  were  appalled  by  the  boldness  of  the  measure ; 
and  the  first  audience  of  the  Declaration  was  neither 


WAR 


203 


very  numerous,  nor  composed  of  the  most  respectable 
class  of  citizens."  The  church  bells,  however,  were 
rung  assiduously,  and  a  few  bonfires  were  lit  at  night, 
that  being  a  form  of  celebration  as  popular  with  the 
boys  of  1776  as  with  their  successors  to-day. 

The  Declaration    of   Independence  was   not   signed 
until  August,  and  in  the  meantime  the  anger  of   the 


ROOM   IN   STATE   HOUSE   WHERE   DECLARA- 
TION WAS   SIGNED 


community,  now  directed  against  the  Pennsylvania 
delegates  who  had  refused  it  their  support,  assumed 
more  and  more  ominous  proportions.  Morris  and  Wilson 
were  indeed  reflected  to  Congress  on  the  twentieth 
of  July,  and  subsequently  became  signers ;  but  Wilson 
was  not  so  easily  pardoned,  and  Dickinson,  once  the 
idol  of  every  heart,  was  loaded  with  recrimination  and 
abuse.  "Popular  enthusiasm  is  a  fire  of  straw,"  says 


204  PHILADELPHIA 

Mr.  Froude;  and  the  crowd  who  had  hailed  the  "Farm- 
er's Letters "  as  a  veritable  message  from  the  gods, 
now  found  no  words  of  contumely  strong  enough  for 
its  author.  If  he  had  been  unduly  elated  by  success, 
he  was  at  least  tolerably  resigned  to  injustice.  There 
was  still  work  to  do,  and  he  marched  with  his  bat- 
talion straight  to  the  field  of  war.  When  the  malice 
of  his  many  enemies,  striking  hard  at  his  honour,  left 
him  no  battalion  to  lead,  he  simply  shouldered  a  mus- 
ket and  served  as  a  common  soldier,  determined  to 
aid  his  country,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  his 
countrymen.  It  may  be  observed  that  Dickinson  and 
McKean  were  the  only  members  of  the  Continental  Con- 
gress who  ever  saw  active  service,  a  circumstance  which 
posterity  has  thought  it  worth  while  to  remember. 

Philadelphia  was  a  proud,  but  not  altogether  a  com- 
fortable city,  after  her  ancient  State  House  had  wit- 
nessed the  signing  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
In  the  first  place  the  new  Constitution  was  manifestly 
unpopular,  which  was  hardly  surprising;  and  in  the 
second  place  the  depreciation  of  the  paper  currency  had 
begun,  and  the  necessities  of  life  were  growing  terribly 
dear.  Above  all,  the  scarcity  of  salt  was  working  se- 
rious evil.  In  the  autumn  of  1776,  fine  salt  was  selling 
at  twenty-five  shillings  a  bushel.  In  December,  the 
Rev.  Henry  Muhlenberg  notes  in  his  diary :  "  The  peo- 
ple push  and  jostle  each  other  wherever  there  is  the 
smallest  quantity  of  salt  to  be  found  about  town.  The 


WAR  205 

country  people  complain  bitterly  because  they  suppose 
there  are  hidden  stores  in  Philadelphia." 

Meanwhile  every  effort  was  made  to  strengthen  the 
defences  of  the  city,  and  to  increase  the  "  flying  camp  " 
which  grew  but  slowly,  although  a  bounty  of  three 
pounds  was  offered  for  every  volunteer,  and  a  reward 
of  three  pounds  for  the  arrest  of  every  deserter.  Gray- 
don's  account  of  the  difficulties  he  experienced  in  rais- 
ing recruits  is  pathetically  droll.  Men  would  utter 
sentiments  of  glowing  patriotism,  and  would  drink  co- 
piously to  their  country  and  their  country's  cause ;  but 
when  pressed  to  enlist,  they  melted  away  like  snow- 
flakes,  leaving  him  not  a  single  soldier  out  of  a  most 
promisingly  noisy  crowd.  It  was  a  season  of  disasters. 
The  colonists'  high  hopes  grew  fainter  and  fainter  as 
the  weary  months  brought  nothing  but  tidings  of  defeat, 
and  the  lines  of  war  drew  ever  closer  to  Philadelphia. 
Sick  and  wounded  troops  were  brought  in  great  num- 
bers to  the  city,  and  the  Pennsylvania  hospital  was  set 
apart  for  their  exclusive  use.  Camp-fever  and  small- 
pox raged  among  these  unfortunates,  destroying  ten 
good  men,  says  John  Adams,  where  the  enemy  killed 
one.  Shallow  trenches  were  dug  in  Washington  Square, 
and  two  thousand  corpses  were  buried  hastily  in  that 
field  of  death  where,  years  before,  the  Guinea  negroes 
had  been  wont  to  steal  at  dusk,  or  in  the  early  dawn, 
with  little  offerings  of  food  and  rum  for  their  departed 
kinsfolk. 


206  PHILADELPHIA 

On  the  nineteenth  of  November  the  news  reached 
Philadelphia  that  General  Howe  had  taken  Fort  Wash- 
ington, and  was  marching  on  the  city.  Graydon,  who 
was  made  a  prisoner  on  this  occasion,  has  left  us  a  lively 
description  of  the  fray,  of  his  own  capture,  and  of  the 
kindness  of  the  big  Scotch  sergeant  who  said  to  him,  as 
to  a  froward  child,  "  Young  man,  ye  should  never  fight 
against  your  King."  Some  of  the  English  officers,  how- 
ever, spoke  to  him  so  rudely,  that  he  confesses  he  was 
unmanned.  "  I  was  obliged  to  apply  my  handkerchief  to 
my  eyes,"  —  an  avowal  which  sounds  more  like  the  sensi- 
tive Mr.  Pecksniff  than  an  American  soldier.  He  was 
subsequently  released  on  parole  through  the  kindness 
of  General  Howe,  and  his  fighting  days  were  over. 

By  the  second  of  December  the  British  were  at  Bruns- 
wick, and  a  general  panic  ensued  in  Philadelphia. 
Christopher  Marshall's  diary  describes  the  lamentable 
confusion :  "  Families  loading  wagons  with  their  furni- 
ture, and  all  ranks  sending  their  goods  out  of  town 
into  the  country."  Even  the  Congress  departed  with 
what  speed  it  could  to  Baltimore,  leaving  a  committee  in 
charge  of  affairs,  with  the  unterrified  Morris  —  who  had 
so  much  to  lose  —  as  chairman.  Washington  appointed 
General  Putnam  the  military  governor  of  the  city,  and 
this  peremptory  officer  ordered  all  able-bodied  men  to 
muster  at  once  for  the  militia,  and  all  merchants  to 
receive  the  Continental  currency  at  its  full  value, 
neither  of  which  mandates  was  obeyed.  In  fact,  the 


WAE  207 

Committee  of  Safety  was  so  determined  that  the  people 
should  accept  the  paper  money  for  more  than  it  was 
worth,  that  it  was  made  a  criminal  offence  to  ask 
higher  prices  for  merchandise  when  the  depreciated 
notes  were  offered  in  payment.  This  is  the  kind  of 
lawmaking  which  is  happily  always  rendered  inactive 
by  its  own  viciousness,  and  by  the  plain  common  sense 
of  the  people.  It  was  the  last  authoritative  act  of 
the  Committee,  before  its  power  passed  into  the  hands 
of  the  Supreme  Executive  Council,  organized  March 
4,  1777. 

When  General  Howe  reached  Trenton,  he  issued 
the  proclamation  which  won  over  many  wavering 
Tories,  like  Galloway  and  the  Aliens,  who  placed 
themselves  under  his  protection.  There  is  little 
doubt  that  the  general  insecurity  of  the  country  im- 
pelled them  to  take  this  step.  James  Allen's  diary 
is  half  comical  in  its  mournful,  but  not  unreasonable 
lamentations  over  the  marauding  habits  of  the  undis- 
ciplined militia,  and  the  obstinacy  of  his  tenants,  who 
plainly  intimated  that  a  patriotic  landlord  would 
never  expect  them  to  pay  their  rents  in  such  a 
troubled  time.  "  The  prevailing  idea,"  he  writes 
angrily,  "is  that  no  man  has  any  right  to  property 
that  the  public  has  use  for,  and  it  is  seldom  they 
even  ask  the  owner."  On  the  other  hand,  Phila- 
delphia was  actively  engaged  in  strewing  the  Tory 
path  with  thorns.  In  July,  1777,  forty  gentlemen 


208  PHILADELPHIA 

were  arrested  on  the  charge  of  disloyalty  to  the 
Government.  Among  them  were  John  Penn,  Jared 
Ingersoll,  Benjamin  Chew,  and  the  always  unfortunate 
Provost  Smith,  who  was  the  stanchest  of  patriots,  — 
save  that  he  would  fain  have  delayed  the  Declaration, 
—  and  who  had  exhausted  himself  in  fervid  speech- 
making  at  every  stage  of  the  fight.  A  few  of  these 
prisoners  were  committed  to  jail ;  but  the  greater  num- 
ber were  banished  from  the  city,  confined  in  their 
own  homes,  or  released  on  parole,  with  the  certainty 
of  being  suspected  and  closely  watched  in  the  future. 

On  the  fourth  of  July,  1777,  Philadelphia  celebrated 
for  the  first  time  our  great  national  holiday,  and  set 
the  example  which  has  been  followed — with  modifi- 
cations —  for  more  than  a  hundred  years.  There 
was  much  firing  of  guns  all  day,  a  civic  banquet  in 
the  evening,  notwithstanding  the  dearness  of  provi- 
sions, and  a  brisk  smashing  of  Quaker  windows  at 
night,  to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  the  mob.  Elizabeth 
Drinker,  whose  husband,  Henry  Drinker,  was  one  of 
the  banished  Friends,  writes  tersely  and  without  com- 
ment in  her  invaluable  diary:  — 

"July  4th,  1777.  The  town  illuminated,  and  a 
great  number  of  windows  broken  on  ye  Anniversary 
of  Independence  and  Freedom." 

The  new  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  State,  which 
was  exacted  from  all  citizens  under  penalty  of  being 
deprived  of  every  office  and  every  civic  right,  caused 


WAR  209 

great  division  in  the  Quaker  ranks.  Hitherto  the 
Friends  had  played  a  purely  passive  part  in  the  gen- 
eral excitement.  They  had  issued  their  yearly  warn- 
ings against  deeds  of  violence,  and  open  rebellion, 
and  they  had  stayed  quietly  at  home  when  other 
people  fled  from  the  city.  It  seemed  as  if,  in  their 
aversion  to  war,  they  regarded  even  running  away 
—  that  very  material  part  of  contest  —  as  opposed  to 
their  principles.  But  all  this  time  dissentient  voices 
had  been  heard  uttering  strange  heresies,  and  insist- 
ing that  upon  the  shoulders  of  every  man  lay  the 
sacred  duty  of  defending  his  country  from  oppres- 
sion. These  voices  had  grown  stronger  and  more  in- 
sistent with  the  rush  of  events  during  the  past  twelve 
months,  and  the  leading  spirit  of  revolt  was  Samuel 
Wetherill,  Junior,  a  great-grandson  of  one  of  the 
first  settlers  of  New  Jersey.  He  had  come  to  Phila- 
delphia as  a  boy,  had  been  apprenticed  to  Mordicai 
Yarnall,  a  wealthy  house  carpenter,  and  had  in  the 
course  of  time  married  his  master's  daughter,  after 
the  good  old  fashion  approved  by  Hogarth.  He 
helped  to  found  the  first  factory  for  weaving  cloths 
in  the  colonies,  and  was  an  influential  man,  deeply 
respected  by  the  Quakers  until  he  severed  himself 
abruptly  from  their  ranks. 

For  it  was  not  enough  for  this  ardent  combatant 
to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  publicly  and  gladly  at 
the  head  of  a  band  of  resolute  young  Friends.  It 


210  PHILADELPHIA 

was  not  even  enough  to  advocate  the  bearing  o£ 
arms,  or  to  give  money  generously  for  the  defences 
of  the  town.  He  must  needs,  following  the  example 
of  those  about  him,  rush  into  print;  and,  as  the 
"  Meeting  Record "  attests,  "  violate  the  established 
order  of  our  discipline,  by  being  concerned  in  pub- 
lishing and  distributing  a  book  tending  to  promote 
dissension  and  division  among  Friends."  For  these 
unpardonable  offences  he  was  formally  but  very  gently 
cut  off  from  the  Society,  with  none  of  the  "current 
compliments  of  theological  parting";  but  rather  with 
regret  at  his  obstinacy,  and  a  pious  hope  that  he 
would  one  day  see  his  errors,  and  be  restored  to 
membership. 

There  was  no  room  for  repentance,  however,  in 
Samuel  Wetherill's  belligerent  soul.  He  was  a 
Quaker  war-horse,  scenting  the  battle  from  afar,  and 
eager  to  rush  into  the  thickest  of  the  fray.  Fol- 
lowers he  had  in  plenty,  men,  who  like  himself,  were 
disowned  by  the  Friends  because  they  advocated  forci- 
ble resistance  against  foreign  enemies  and  oppressive 
laws,  and  because  they  declared — of  course  in  print 
—  that  no  man  nor  woman  could  justly  be  excommuni- 
cated from  any  Christian  church,  provided  he  or  she 
believed  in  the  word  of  God.  This  was  the  substance 
of  Wetherill's  famous  "Apology  for  the  Religious 
Society,  called  Free  Quakers,  in  the  City  of  Phila- 
delphia," which  made  him  many  converts  and  many 


WAE  211 

enemies,  both  of  which  acquisitions  he  thoroughly 
enjoyed.  "  Free  Quakers "  was  the  name  given  to 
themselves  by  these  determined  seceders ;  but  the 
people  generally  called  them  by  the  more  stirring 
title  of  "  Fighting  Quakers,"  which  was  well  deserved, 
and  the  Friends  never  mentioned  them  save  briefly 
as  "  Apostates."  — "  T.  Matlock  takes  upon  himself 
to  be  speaker  for  ye  Apostates,"  writes  Elizabeth 
Drinker,  as  usual  without  comment.  She  possessed 
the  unfeminine  gift  of  expressing  her  sentiments  fully 
without  help  from  explanations  or  expletives. 

For  several  years  after  their  expulsion  from  the 
Society,  the  Free  Quakers  met  for  worship  in  private 
houses,  or  in  one  of  the  college  rooms.  They  con- 
sidered, however,  that  they  had  a  legal  right  to  occupy 
the  old  meeting-house,  and  applied  for  permission, 
which  was  naturally  but  civilly  refused.  They  also 
boldly  announced  that  they  meant  to  use  the  Friends' 
burial  ground,  without  asking  leave,  whenever  they 
required  it.  "For  however  the  living  may  con- 
tend, surely  the  dead  may  lie  peaceably  together." 
This  was  not  so  easily  accomplished  as  they  fancied. 
The  dead,  indeed,  were  peaceable  enough,  and  cared 
little  who  lay  by  their  sides;  but  the  burial  ground 
was  under  the  control  of  the  living,  who  would  have 
none  but  orthodox  graves  dug  within  its  tranquil  en- 
closure. The  would-be  intruders  then  took  a  step 
alien  to  all  Quaker  principles,  and  to  the  whole  his- 


212  PHILADELPHIA 

tory  of  their  church:  they  appealed  to  the  civil  au- 
thorities to  interfere  in  their  behalf,  setting  forth 
their  own  claims  as  loyal  citizens,  and  plainly  inti- 
mating that  their  opponents  were  Tories,  royalists, 
and  traitors  at  heart  to  the  Republic.  This  petition 
was  promptly  met  by  a  memorial  from  the  Friends, 
stoutly  denying  any  treasonable  intent,  and  asserting 
that  they  too  were  loyal  and  law-abiding  men,  who, 
in  the  matter  of  the  meeting-house  and  burial  ground, 
merely  followed  the  rules  of  their  community,  and  the 
dictates  of  their  consciences.  The  lawmakers  with 
unwonted  sapiency  decided  that  religious  dissensions 
were  no  concern  of  theirs,  and  left  to  the  pious  dis- 
putants the  privilege  of  settling  the  quarrel  as  best 
they  could  alone. 

They  did  not  settle  it  at  all.  They  quarrelled 
bravely  on,  and  the  Free  Quakers  built  a  new  meet- 
ing-house at  Fifth  and  Arch  Streets,  a  quaint  little 
edifice  of  red  brick,  to  which  Washington,  and  Frank- 
lin and  a  great  many  distinguished  people  lent  liberal 
aid.  On  a  tablet  inserted  in  the  wall  are  cut  these 
four  lines :  — 

"By  General  Subscription, 
For  the  Free  Quakers. 
Erected  A.  D.  1783. 
Of  the  Empire  8." 

The  word  "  Empire  "  has  puzzled  good  Republicans 
for  more  than  a  century.  A  prominent  member  of 


WAR  .  213 

the  first  congregation  being  asked  why  it  had  been 
used,  replied  valiantly,  "I  tell  thee,  Friend,  it  is 
because  our  country  is  destined  to  be  the  great  empire 
over  all  the  world," — a  loyal  sentiment,  but  one  that 
affords  no  explanation. 

During  the  Revolutionary  war,  and  in  the  troubled 
years  which  immediately  followed  it,  the  Free  or 
Fighting  Quakers  enjoyed  great  popularity,  and  were 
far  better  off  than  their  persecuted  brethren  in  the 
fold.  They  took  an  active  part  in  politics,  and  even 
the  women  gave  distinguished  proof  of  their  devotion 
to  the  cause  of  liberty.  Lydia  Darragh,  who  brought 
to  Washington's  camp  at  White  Marsh  news  of  the 
English,  army's  intended  attack,  and  Elizabeth  Ross, 
who  made  the  first  flag  carried  by  the  American  army, 
were  both  Free  Quakers.  But  when  the  Federal 
government  was  firmly  established,  and  the  bitterness 
of  dissension  was  at  an  end,  the  little  congregation 
shared  the  fate  of  so  many  vigorous  branches  lopped 
from  a  parent  stem.  Some  of  its  members  returned 
to  their  old  allegiance,  and  were  received  back 
into  the  Society  of  Friends;  some  died,  and  their 
families  gradually  ceased  to  attend  the  Sunday  meet- 
ings. Elizabeth  Ross,  afterwards  Elizabeth  Claypoole, 
the  last  of  the  original  seceders,  lived  until  1836, 
but  was  too  old  and  infirm  to  leave  her  own  roof. 
Finally,  John  Price  Wetherill,  son  of  Samuel  Wether- 
ill,  who  had  inherited  his  father's  undaunted  spirit, 


214  PHILADELPHIA 

was  reduced  to  the  mournful  necessity  of  worshipping 
alone,  or  nearly  alone,  for  several  years,  a  strain  too 
great  to  be  endured  by  any  man.  Accordingly,  one 
Sunday  morning  he  closed  the  meeting-house  for  the 
last  time,  and  acknowledged  the  long,  long  struggle 
to  be  over.  As  a  religious  society,  the  Free  Quakers 
had  passed  out  of  existence. 

Yet  a  career  of  true  usefulness  remained  to  make  the 
name  honoured  and  beloved.  Mr.  Wetherill,  clearly 
recognizing  the  needs  of  the  community  in  which  he 
lived,  devoted  himself  to  organizing  a  committee,  the 
members  of  which  should  use  the  funds  at  their  dis- 
posal for  charitable  and  philanthropic  purposes.  If 
they  could  no  longer  minister  to  the  souls  of  men, 
they  could  at  least  feed  their  bodies  and  their  minds. 
So  the  red  brick  house  at  Fifth  and  Arch  Streets  was 
made  over  to  the  Apprentices'  Library,  then  the  only 
free  library  in  Philadelphia;  and  for  many  years  the 
nominal  rent  of  fifty  dollars  was  regularly  given  back, 
to  be  spent  in  "good  and  useful  books."  Other 
charities  were  added  from  time  to  time  as  the  income  of 
the  society  permitted;  and  even  now  this  admirable 
organization  continues  to  do  its  work,  without  parade, 
without  salaried  officials,  without  asking  help  from  the 
public,  and  without  any  shadow  of  sectarianism.  The 
Quakers,  whether  "  Free  "  or  in  subjection,  have  never 
sympathized  with  the  pious  almsgiving  peculiar  to 
Christian  churches,  which  follow  the  example  of  the 


WAR  215 

careful  Jacob,  and  bestow  their  mess  of  pottage,  only  at 
the  price  of  a  brother's  birthright.  The  making,  es- 
pecially the  buying  of  converts,  finds  no  place  in  the 
annals  of  the  Friends. 

Nor  did  the  spirit  which  impelled  these  obstinate 
schismatics  to  play  their  part  in  the  Revolution  die 
with  the  death  of  their  schism,  and  the  closing  of  their 
meeting-house.  It  survived  to  face  another  great 
emergency,  and,  with  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil 
War,  the  old  combative  instinct  flared  into  vehement 
life.  Once  more  the  Free  Quakers  became  Fighting 
Quakers,  and  marched  gayly  to  the  front;  while  the 
treasurer  of  the  Society,  too  old  for  active  service,  raised 
and  equipped  a  company  of  soldiers  at  his  sole  expense, 
and  presented  them,  ready  for  service,  to  the  State. 
And  still  inherited  characteristics  survive,  giving 
ample  promise  for  the  future.  In  the  sudden  mad 
revolts  of  organized  labour,  in  the  bloody  scenes  at  the 
roundhouse  of  Pittsburg,  and  in  the  Homestead  riots, 
the  Philadelphia  militia  were  never  without  some 
representatives  of  the  Society,  some  descendants  of  the 
Fighting  Quakers,  ready  and  keen  to  preserve  un- 
broken the  ancient  traditions  of  their  name. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   GAY   CAPTIVITY 

n^HE  defeat  of  Washington's  forces  on  the  Brandy- 
wine  brought  the  victorious  English  army  within 
twenty  miles  of  Philadelphia.  The  successful  night 
attack  on  Wayne's  camp  at  Paoli  disheartened  still 
further  the  American  soldiers,  unused  to  the  fearful 
vicissitudes  of  war.  It  only  remained  for  General 
Howe  to  outmanoeuvre  Washington  at  the  Swedes 
Ford  by  swift  marches  and  counter-marches  on  the 
west  bank  of  the  Schuylkill,  which  tactics  enabled  him 
to  elude  his  enemy,  cross  the  river  unopposed,  and 
enter  the  city  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  September,  1777. 
Word  was  sent  to  the  townspeople,  through  Thomas 
Willing,  that  they  should  remain  quietly  in  their 
homes,  and  a  promise  was  given  that  no  one  should 
be  molested  in  person  or  in  property.  This  promise 
was  kept,  for  although  the  soldiers  could  not  always 
be  restrained  from  committing  depredations,  they  were 
punished  with  severity  every  time  they  offended,  even 
when  soft-hearted  sufferers,  like  Mrs.  Samuel  Morton, 
tried  hard  to  beg  them  off.  Many  prominent  Whigs 
had  already  left  Philadelphia.  The  citizens  who  re- 

216 


A   GAY  CAPTIVITY  217 

mained  regarded  the  advent  of  the  English  with  con- 
flicting emotions,  in  which  the  irrepressible  spirit  of 
commerce  played  a  weighty  part.  Robert  Morton, 
aged  seventeen,  wrote  in  his  diary:  "Sept.  26th. 
This  day  has  put  a  period  to  the  existence  of  Conti- 
nental money  in  the  city.  'Esto  Perpetual" 

It  was  no  pleasant  matter,  however,  for  a  town  of 
thirty  thousand  inhabitants  to  be  suddenly  called 
upon  to  shelter  an  invading  army  nearly  eighteen 
thousand  strong.  The  soldiers  found  quarters  wher- 
ever they  could,  the  artillery  and  the  Forty-Second 
Highlanders  remaining  near  the  State  House,  while 
the  State  House  yard  was  filled  with  formidable  can- 
non. The  officers  were  billeted  upon  wealthier 
households,  not  always  to  the  satisfaction  of  their 
hosts,  though,  on  the  whole,  sufficiently  amicable  re- 
lations were  maintained.  Lord  Cornwallis  with  a 
numerous  suite  established  himself  in  the  home  of 
Isaac  Norris ;  but  when  Mrs.  Norris  represented  to 
him  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  remain 
under  her  own  roof  with  so  large  a  company  of  sol- 
diers and  servants,  he  courteously  expressed  his  un- 
willingness to  cause  her  any  annoyance,  and  betook 
himself  that  very  afternoon  to  other  lodgings.  Gen- 
eral Howe  lived  first  in  General  Cadwalader's  house 
on  Second  Street,  and  afterwards  in  the  house  of 
Richard  Penn,  which  subsequently  became  the  resi- 
dence of  Washington,  when  President.  We  have  an 


218  PHILADELPHIA 

amusing  account  in  Elizabeth  Drinker's  journal  of 
her  reluctance  to  receive  an  English  officer  during 
her  husband's  enforced  absence,  and  of  her  relief 
when  she  found  the  unwelcome  guest  to  be  "a 
thoughtful,  sober  young  man,"  with  an  equally 
thoughtful,  sober  servant,  neither  of  whom  caused 
any  disturbance  beneath  her  quiet  roof.  In  fact, 
"  our  Major,"  as  she  affectionately  calls  the  intruder, 
became  after  a  month  or  two  the  object  of  her  careful 
solicitude.  He  developed,  amid  the  fast  growing  gaye- 
ties  of  the  town,  a  taste  for  late  hours  and  supper 
parties,  and  she  gave  him  excellent  advice,  of  the 
"  early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise  "  order,  which  he  ac- 
cepted with  great  good-humour,  and  ill-kept  promises 

of  amendment. 

• 

Howe's  first  care  was  to  strengthen  the  defences  of 
Philadelphia  by  placing  batteries  along  the  river  front, 
and  building  a  line  of  redoubts  from  the  Delaware  to 
the  Schuylkill.  Until  these  defences  were  completed, 
a  portion  of  his  army  was  left  to  guard  Germantown, 
and  the  exposed  position  of  this  camp  determined 
Washington  to  risk  an  immediate  battle.  He  divided 
his  forces  into  three  columns,  the  first  led  by  Arm- 
strong, the  second  by  Green,  the  third  by  Wayne  and 
Sullivan.  The  attack  was  made  at  early  dawn  on  the 
fourth  of  October.  The  English,  taken  by  surprise,  re- 
treated in  some  disorder,  closely  pursued  by  Wayne, 
until  Colonel  Musgrave  with  his  six  companies  of  the 


A   GAT  CAPTIVITY 


219 


Fortieth  Regiment  flung  himself  into  the  Chew  Man- 
sion, and  effectually  checked  the  progress  of  the  tri- 
umphant Americans.  In  vain  they  essayed  to  storm 
this  strong  old  country  house,  thus  suddenly  turned 
into  a  fortress.  It  was  not  built  in  this  era  of  feeble, 
flimsy  architecture,  and  Musgrave's  men  poured  a 


"THIS  STRONG  OLD  COUNTRY  HOUSB " 

deadly  and  continuous  fire  upon  the  attacking  col- 
umn. To  complete  the  misfortunes  of  the  day,  a 
thick  autumnal  mist  shrouded  the  combatants;  and 
Green's  division,  pressing  eagerly  forward  along  Mill 
Street,  was  mistaken  by  Wayne's  soldiers  for  the  en- 
emy. The  confusion  that  followed  was  irreparable  ; 
the  battle  which  had  promised  a  victory  ended  in  de- 


220  PHILADELPHIA 

feat;  and  noon  saw  the  American  forces  retreating 
northward  to  White  Marsh,  leaving  the  English  in 
possession  of  the  field. 

To  Philadelphia,  the  news  of  the  struggle  at  her 
gates  brought  a  fever  of  excitement.  All  morning 
she  waited  in  suspense,  and  by  afternoon  the  first 
wagon -loads  of  wounded  soldiers  were  dragged 
through  her  thronged  streets.  The  hospitals  were 
filled  to  overflowing;  and  Robert  Morton  tells  us 
that  Dr.  Foulke,  demonstrator  of  anatomy  at  the 
Medical  College,  was  held  to  be  a  far  more  skilful 
operator  than  any  of  the  English  surgeons :  so  that 
the  wounded  Americans  had  at  least  the  sad  comfort 
of  having  their  arms  and  legs  cut  off  in  half  the  time, 
and  with  half  the  suffering  endured  by  their  unfortu- 
nate opponents.  In  those  old  terrible  days,  when  the 
supreme  mercy  of  anaesthetics  had  not  yet  been 
granted  to  the  world,  it  made  a  vast  difference  to  the 
poor  shattered  .wretch  to  know  that  his  agony  would 
last  twenty  instead  of  forty  minutes,  and  would  be 
alleviated  by  the  firm,  sure  touch  of  a  practised  and 
pitying  hand. 

The  battle  of  Germantown  left  Howe  free  to  complete 
his  line  of  redoubts,  and  to  turn  his  attention  to  the 
chevaux  de  frise  —  Franklin's  invention  —  which  still 
stretched  across  the  channel,  protecting  the  American 
ships,  and  separating  the  English  effectually  from  their 
fleet,  which  lay  outside  under  the  command  of  Admiral 


A   GAT  CAPTIVITY  221 

Howe.  The  invading  army  depended  upon  this  fleet 
for  provisions,  for  the  country  about  Philadelphia  was 
closely  watched  by  detachments  of  soldiers  under 
Wayne's  command ;  but  the  Admiral  was  unable  to  pass 
the  chevaux  de  frise  while  the  three  forts,  Mifflin,  Mercer 
and  Billingsport,were  still  in  the  hands  of  the  Ameri- 
cans. The  reduction  of  these  forts  became  an  absolute 
necessity,  if  eighteen  thousand  men  were  not  to  starve 
in  the  city  they  had  taken;  but  though  Billingsport 
was  surrendered  early  in  October,  Fort  Mifflin  and  Fort 
Mercer  held  out  gallantly  for  more  than  a  month ;  des- 
perately attacked  and  desperately  defended,  costing 
more  lives  than  were  wasted  in  many  a  great  decisive 
battle,  and  abandoned  by  their  garrisons,  only  after  they 
had  been  battered  into  mere  unrecognizable  heaps  of 
tumbling  stones  and  mortar.  In  the  meantime,  the 
colonies  had  gained  elsewhere  their  first  decisive  victory. 
The  battle  of  Saratoga  had  been  fought,  and  Burgoyne 
with  six  thousand  men  had  surrendered  to  General  Gates. 
But  Gates  was  far  away  from  the  poor  little  besieged 
forts,  and  made  no  great  speed  to  draw  nearer.  When 
they  fell,  the  chevaux  de  frise  was  removed,  the  Ameri- 
can war  vessels  were  captured  by  the  superior  English 
fleet,  and  supplies  of  every  kind  were  brought  in  great 
abundance  to  the  city.  General  Howe  and  his  army, 
free  from  all  immediate  apprehensions,  settled  down 
comfortably  for  the  winter ;  and  Washington  withdrew 
to  his  dismal  quarters  at  Valley  Forge,  with  no  prospect 


222  PHILADELPHIA 

of    anything    resembling    comfort   in   the   long,  cruel 
months  of  inactivity. 

If,  at  first,  Philadelphia  seemed  a  trifle  dull  to  the 
English  officers,  they  rapidly  proceeded  to  remedy  that 
evil.  The  water  was  pronounced  at  once  too  bad  to 
drink,  but  wine  could  always  be  substituted,  and  the 
town  had  long  been  as  famous  for  its  fine  Madeira  as 
for  its  West  India  turtle.  The  damp,  unwholesome 
climate  was  also  roundly  abused,  and,  unhappily,  no 
substitute  was  in  this  case  attainable.  The  women 
were  declared  with  one  accord  to  be  both  gay  and 
charming,  and  they  lent  themselves  with  easy  humour 
to  strange  surroundings,  and  to  the  unwonted  quicken- 
ing of  social  life.  The  deference  shown  them  moderated 
in  some  degree  the  reckless  dissipation  of  the  younger 
men,  cadets  often  of  noble  houses,  to  whom  the  snatch- 
ing of  every  possible  pleasure  was  as  much  a  part  of  the 
soldier's  life  as  hard  fighting  in  the  field,  and  grim  en- 
durance when  there  were  no  pleasures  to  be  snatched. 
The  weekly  balls  at  the  City  Tavern  had  for  these  Eng- 
lish lads  a  keener  attraction  than  even  the  cock-pit  in 
Moore's  Alley,  or  the  wild  suppers  at  the  "Bunch  of 
Grapes,"  or  the  club  dinners,  "late  and  long,"  in  the 
rooms  of  the  "Indian  Queen."  The  shabby  little 
theatre  on  South  Street  no  longer  languished  in  disgrace, 
but  afforded  endless  entertainment,  notwithstanding  its 
truly  destitute  condition.  With  military  readiness  of 
resource,  the  Englishmen  were  prepared  to  be  actors, 


A   GAT  CAPTIVITY 


223 


actresses,  scene-painters,  supernumeraries,  costumers  and 
audience.  They  were  equally  willing  to  try  their  hands 
at  tragedy,  comedy,  farce,  or  melodrama;  and  their 
winter's  repertoire  included  such  fine  contrasts  as  "  The 
Constant  Couple,"  "  Douglas,"  "  The  Deuce  is  in  Him," 
and  the  first  part  of  "  King  Henry  IV." 

The  best  actor  in  the  troupe,  the  best  scene-painter, 
the  best   costumer,   and   the  only  man   who  could  be 
depended  upon  to  write  a  really 
witty  prologue  was  Major  Andre*. 
In  all  the  frivolities  of  this  frivo- 
lous time,  his  was  the  central  fig- 
ure.    His  gay  good  humour,  his 
handsome  face,  his  charm  of  voice 
and    manner,  made    the    art    of 
pleasing  a  perilously  easy  art  for 
him  to  practise.     Light  of  heart     £ 
and    steadfast    of    purpose,     he 
shrank  from  no  danger,  and  neg- 
lected no  amusement.     He  was 

but  twenty -seven  years  old,  and  his  friend  and  fellow 
actor,  De  Lancey,  was  younger  still.  Indeed,  many 
of  the  officers  were  mere  boys,  to  whom  a  skirmish 
or  a  cricket  match  were  equally  acceptable  entertain- 
ments. That  careless  dare-devil,  Taiieton,  who  divided 
his  time  between  riding  races  and  making  love,  was 
only  twenty-one,  and  a  match  in  precocity  for  the  gal- 
lant young  American,  "  Major  Stodard,"  whom  Miss 


MAJOR  ANDRE 


224  PHILADELPHIA 

Sally  Wister  extols  in  her  journal  as  "  justly  celebrated 
for  his  powers  of  mind,"  and  who  had  gained  this  envi- 
able distinction  at  nineteen. 

We  can  best  understand  what  sober  Philadelphia  was 
really  like  in  this  winter  of  mad  and  modish  gayety 
when  we  read  contemporary  letters,  especially  the  letters 
of  women,  who  have  ever  been  wont  to  think  more  of 
pastimes  than  of  politics.  Just  as  Miss  Wister,  in  the 
retirement  of  country  life  at  Gwynedd,  fills  up  her  diary 
with  descriptions  of  the  American  officers  whom  the 
chances  of  war  brought  under  her  father's  roof,  with 
minute  accounts  of  the  bewitching  costumes  she  wore 
for  their  subjection,  and  with  accurate  reports  of  all  the 
flattering  things  they  said  to  her,  and  of  all  the  viva- 
cious things  she  said  to  them ;  so  the  fair  Tories  in  the 
Quaker  City  describe  with  equal  ardour  and  fidelity  the 
more  varied  dissipations  which  filled  their  nights,  and 
filled  their  hearts,  to  the  exclusion  of  graver  issues. 
Miss  Rebecca  Franks,  who  played  a  prominent  part  in 
these  few  months  of  frolic,  can  find  no  words  vehement 
enough  to  express  her  enjoyment  of  the  situation. 

"  You  have  not  the  slightest  idea,"  she  writes  to  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Paca,  "of  the  life  of  continued  amusement 
I  live  in.  I  can  scarce  have  a  moment  to  myself.  I 
have  stole  this  while  everybody  is  retired  to  dress  for 
dinner.  I  am  but  just  come  from  under  Mr.  J.  Black's 
hands,  and  most  elegantly  am  I  dressed  for  a  ball  this 
evening  at  Smith's,  where  we  have  one  every  Thursday. 


A   GAY  CAPTIVITY  225 

You  would  not  know  the  room,  'tis  so  much  improved. 
I  wish  to  Heaven  you  were  going  with  us  this  evening 
to  judge  for  yourself." 

No  doubt  poor  Mrs.  Paca,  being  still  young  and  giddy, 
wished  so  too,  especially  when  her  correspondent  goes 
on  to  assure  her  that  there  is  never  any  loss  for  partners, 
and  that  she  herself  is  engaged  to  seven  different  gentle- 
men for  the  evening,  as  no  lady  dances  more  than  twice 
with  the  same  cavalier.  There  is  the  ring  of  true  girl- 
ish friendship  in  the  closing  lines  of  the  letter,  an  im- 
petuous, generous  desire  to  share  all  this  fun  with  a 
companion. 

"  Oh !  how  I  wish  Mr.  P.  would  let  you  come  in  for 
a  week  or  two.  I  know  you  are  as  fond  of  a  gay  life 
as  myself.  You'd  have  an  opportunity  of  rakeing  as 
much  as  you  choose,  either  at  Plays,  Balls,  Concerts,  or 
Assemblies.  I've  been  but  three  evenings  alone  since 
we  moved  to  town.  I  begin  now  to  be  almost  tired." 

No  wonder  that  downcast  Whigs  grew  sore  at  heart 
when  they  contrasted  all  this  jollity  with  the  hardships 
endured  by  Washington's  ragged  army  at  Valley  Forge, 
or  with  the  still  sadder  lot  of  the  American  prisoners 
in  Philadelphia,  herded  together  in  the  old  jail  on 
Walnut  Street  under  the  charge  of  a  brute  named 
Cunningham,  who  proved  his  total  unfitness  for  such 
an  office  by  wanton  cruelty  and  abuse,  and  who,  it  is 
a  profound  comfort  to  know,  was  finally  hanged  as  he 
deserved  after  his  return  to  England.  No  wonder  that 
Q 


226  PHILADELPHIA 

dull  exiles  from  the  city  found  it  hard  to  listen  with 
tranquillity  to  letters  brimful  of  plays  and  dances.  No 
wonder  that  James  Allen  growled  deeply  over  Phila- 
delphia's "  rollicking  winter,"  when  he  remembered 
his  unpaid  rents ;  or  that  Christopher  Marshall,  shut 
up  in  stupid  Lancaster  for  safety,  and  well-nigh  mad- 
dened by  his  isolation, — not  from  balls,  but  from  the 
progress  of  events,  —  relieved  his  mind  by  storming 
alternately  at  General  Howe,  as  a  "savage  monster," 
and  at  General  Washington,  as  a  supine  sluggard,  — 
equally  unmerited  reproaches.  The  situation  was  par- 
ticularly trying  to  those  Free  Quakers  who  were  rich, 
thrifty,  disinclined  for  active  service,  and  discontented 
with  the  behaviour  of  everybody  about  them.  "  This  is 
a  strange  age  in  which  I  now  dwell,"  writes  Marshall 
angrily  in  his  "  Remembrancer,"  "  because  nothing  can 
be  had  cheap  but  lies,  falsehood,  and  slanderous  accusa- 
tions. Love  and  Charity,  the  badges  of  Christianity, 
are  not  so  much  as  named  amongst  us." 

It  is  a  painful  proof  of  the  bitterness  of  spirit,  which 
grew  deeper  with  every  year  of  warfare,  that  when 
Mr.  William  Atlee  of  Lancaster  was  moved  by  pity  to 
take  under  his  roof  a  young  English  officer,  a  fever- 
stricken  prisoner  who  bore  Mrs.  Atlee's  maiden  name, 
though  claiming  no  relationship,  this  act  of  "  Love  and 
Charity,"  so  far  from  winning  Marshall's  approbation, 
rouses  him  to  a  whole  page  of  wrathful  anathemas 
upon  the  lukewarm  patriotism  which  made  friends  of 


A  GAY  CAPTIVITY  227 

enemies,  and  weakened  the  cause  of  freedom  by  ill- 
timed  lenity  and  vacillation. 

Meanwhile  Philadelphia,  careless  of  the  darkening 
future,  grew  gayer  and  gayer  as  the  spring  advanced. 
An  occasional  skirmish  outside  the  lines  hardly  suf^.  i 
to  remind  the  soldiers  that  there  were  still  military 
duties  and  dangers  to  be  encountered.  Once,  indeed, 
La  Fayette  with  twenty -five  hundred  picked  men  ad- 
vanced half-way  from  Valley  Forge;  'and  General 
Howe,  eager  to  defeat  this  littis  force  Mid  to  capture  its 
gallant  leader,  marched  hastily  to  meet  them.  But 
the  Americans,  eluding  attack,  retreated  in  safety,  and 
nothing  came  of  the  manoeuvres  on  either  side,  save 
some  brisk  and  healthy  exercise.  England,  however, 
was  of  the  opinion  that  the  war  might  be  carried  on 
with  more  fervour ;  Howe  was  recalled  in  May,  to  the 
unfeigned  distress  of  both  officers  and  soldiers  with 
whom  he  was  equally  popular,  and  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
succeeded  him  in  the  command. 

The  famous  fete  called  the  Mischianza,  of  which  so 
many  accounts  have  been  written,  was  designed  as  a 
farewell  to  Howe,  and  as  a  testimony  of  the  affection 
felt  for  him.  The  open  dissatisfaction  expressed  by 
the  home  government  for  the  languor  and  negligence 
of  his  campaign  merely  stimulated  his  staff  to  more 
extravagant  expressions  of  their  love  and  loyalty. 
Twenty-two  field-officers  planned  an  entertainment 
which  in  beauty,  novelty  and  costliness  surpassed  all 


228  PHILADELPHIA 

balls  and  banquets  that  Philadelphia  had  ever  known 
in  her  hundred  years  of  existence.  It  comprised  a 
regatta,  a  tournament,  and  a  dance ;  and  no  pains  were 
spared  to  make  it  as  splendid  as  colonial  resources 
wouli  permit.  Walnut  Grove,  the  country-seat  of 
Thomas-  Wharton,  was  selected  as  a  desirable  site ;  and 
the  gay  company  who  met  at  Knight's  Wharf  between 


WALNUT  GROVE 


three  and  four  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  eighteenth 
of  May  were  carried  in  decorated  barges  to  the  land- 
ing-place at  Old  Fort,  whence  they  were  escorted  by 
troops  to  the  wide  lawn  on  which  the  tournament  was 
held.  The  English  fleet  lying  at  anchor  with  stream- 
ing colours,  and  the  thousands  of  spectators  who 
crowded  the  wharfs  and  transport  ships,  lent  pictu- 
resqueness  and  brilliancy  to  the  scene.  On  the  lawn, 
suitable  pavilions  had  been  erected  for  the  ladies, 


A  GAY  CAPTIVITY  229 

twenty-one  of  whom  were  dressed  in  Turkish  costumes, 
designed  by  the  indefatigable  Andre*,  and  presenting  a 
delightful  mixture  of  the  Oriental  and  the  Parisian. 
Andre*  was  wont  to  declare  that  the  Mischianza  had 
made  of  him  a  most  capable  milliner;  and  he  wrote 
blithely  to  Miss  Shippen,  offering  his  valuable  services, 
and  confessing  himself  ready  to  enter  "  into  the  whole 
details  of  cap-wire,  needles,  and  gauze." 

The  tournament  was  the  remarkable  feature  of  the 
entertainment.  The  Knights  of  the  Blended  Rose  and 
the  Knights  of  the  Burning  Mountain  —  it  all  sounds 
horribly  Masonic  to  our  dull  nineteenth  century  ears  — 
defied  each  other  to  mortal  combat,  shivered  their  lances 
in  orthodox  fashion,  fired  their  pistols,  —  a  sad  anachro- 
nism,—  and  engaged  valorously  with  their  swords,  until 
the  Marshal  of  the  Field  ordered  them,  in  the  name 
of  the  ladies,  to  desist.  The  company  then  passed 
under  triumphal  arches,  and  between  files  of  soldiers, 
into  a  spacious  hall,  where  the  Knights  received  their 
favours  at  the  hands  of  the  Turkish  damsels,  and 
refreshed  themselves  with  lemonade  and  other  cooling 
drinks.  After  this  the  doors  of  the  ball-room  were 
thrown  open,  revealing  a  charming  apartment  deco- 
rated in  pale  blue  and  gold,  with  hanging  garlands 
of  roses,  painted  by  Andr6  and  De  Lancey,  and  with 
eighty-five  mirrors  on  the  wall,  reflecting  the  beauty 
of  the  scene.  The  Knights  and  their  Turkish  ladies 
opened  the  ball,  which  began  early,  after  the  primi- 


230  PHILADELPHIA 

tive  fashion  of  our  ancestors,  and  was  interrupted  at  ten 
o'clock  by  a  magnificent  display  of  fireworks.  At  mid- 
night, supper  was  served  to  the  exhausted  merrymakers, 
who  must  by  that  time  have  been  perilously  nigh  the 
brink  of  starvation.  A  very  fine  supper  it  was,  with 
four  hundred  and  thirty  covers,  and  fully  twelve 
hundred  dishes.  Twenty-four  black  slaves  in  Oriental 
costumes,  with  silver  collars  and  bracelets,  waited  on 
the  guests.  The  walls  of  the  banqueting  room  were 
also  gayly  painted  and  hung  with  mirrors,  while  more 
than  a  thousand  wax  tapers  shed  their  soft  brilliance 
over  scarlet  uniforms  and  silken  gowns.  At  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  feast,  a  herald,  gorgeously  attired  and  pre- 
ceded by  trumpeters,  proclaimed  a  number  of  toasts, 
—  the  King,  the  Queen,  the  Army,  the  Navy,  the 
Commanders,  the  Knights  and  Ladies,  —  after  which 
ceremony  all  returned  to  the  ball-room,  and  danced 
indefatigably  until  four  o'clock. 

Thus  the  Mischianza  lasted,  from  beginning  to  end, 
fully  twelve  hours,  and  reflected  credit  on  the  magnifi- 
cent endurance  of  the  English  army  and  of  our  Ameri- 
can women.  "It  was  the  most  splendid  entertainment 
ever  given  by  soldiers  to  their  General,"  writes  Andre*, 
contentedly;  and  it  was  certainly  one  of  the  longest 
entertainments  ever  given  in  modern  times  to  any- 
body. Six  days  later,  Howe  sailed  for  England,  amid 
the  lamentations  of  his  officers,  and  to  the  unfeigned 
regret  of  the  rank  and  file  who  loved  him  better  than 


A   GAY  CAPTIVITY  231 

any  other  commander  in  the  field.  Even  the  phleg- 
matic Hessians  felt  for  him  something  akin  to  affec- 
tion; and  General  Knyphausen  broke  down  in  the 
middle  of  a  farewell  address,  and  forgot  in  his  honest 
dejection  all  the  complimentary  speeches  he  had  meant 
to  utter. 

With  the  Mischianza,  Philadelphia's  season  of  reck- 
less levity  came  to  an  abrupt  termination.  Surely 
the  gay  Tory  dames,  the  fair  Shippens  and  Chews,  the 
vivacious  Miss  Franks  who,  with  the  far  handsomer 
Miss  Auchmuty,  had  been  crowned  Queen  of  Beauty 
at  the  tournament,  and  many  another  pleasure-loving 
maid  must  have  felt  the  grey  dawn  strike  chillingly  to 
their  hearts,  as  they  wended  their  way  homeward,  and 
thought  of  the  changes  to  come.  For  already  there 
was  an  ominous  stir  in  the  camp  at  Valley  Forge, 
where  the  sharp  lessons  of  suffering  and  experience 
had  made  of  undisciplined  and  often  cowardly  militia, 
soldiers  worth  leading  to  the  field.  That  very  night, 
while  Philadelphia's  daughters  were  dancing  in  the 
rose-garlanded  ball-room,  McLane  with  a  few  troopers 
and  four  squads  of  infantry  had  sharply  attacked  the 
redoubts,  firing  the  abatis  which  adjoined  them.  But 
while  the  English  officers  danced,  or  gambled  at  the 
faro  tables  which  the  Mischianza  had  liberally  pro- 
vided, the  English  soldiers  kept  watchful  guard.  Sur- 
prise was  impossible,  and  the  bold  assailants  were  so 
swiftly  repelled  that  the  breathless  girls,  who  paused 


232  PHILADELPHIA 

with  startled  eyes  to  listen  to  the  thunder  of  the  guns, 
were  not  even  permitted  to  hear  the  disquieting  news. 
It  was  a  salute,  their  partners  said,  a  salute  to  honour 
them ;  and  with  light  laughter  at  their  easily  awakened 
fears,  they  turned  joyously  back  to  the  dance. 

It  is  a  .painful  truth  that  not  Tory  ladies  alone 
graced  the  Mischianza  by  their  presence.  The  wives 
arid  daughters  of  many  incorruptible  Whigs  found  the 
temptation  too  great  to  be  resisted,  and  their  offence 
was  hardly  of  so  heinous  a  nature  as  to  merit  the  severe 
strictures  passed  upon  it.  A  ball  is  always  a  ball,  no 
matter  by  whom  it  may  be  given ;  but  when  to  a  ball 
is  added  the  startling  novelty  of  a  tournament,  with 
Knights  of  the  Blended  Rose,  and  Turkish  maidens 
carrying  favours  in  their  turbans,  what  wonder  that 
curiosity  and  desire  grew  too  strong  to  be  controlled  by 
the  abstract  spirit  of  patriotism  !  General  Wayne,  who 
could  never  bring  himself  to  forgive  the  light-hearted- 
ness  of  women,  wrote  crossly  and  sarcastically  anent 
their  misbehaviour  in  coquetting  with  "the  heavenly, 
sweet,  pretty  redcoats,"  adding,  in  the  true  tone  of 
"  Parent's  Assistant " :  — 

"  The  Knights  of  the  Blended  Roses  and  of  the  Burn- 
ing Mount  have  resigned  their  laurels  to  Rebel  officers, 
who  will  lay  them  at  the  feet  of  those  virtuous  daughters 
of  America  who  cheerfully  gave  up  ease  and  affluence 
in  a  city  for  liberty  and  peace  of  mind  in  a  cottage." 

Alas!  and  alas!  outside  the  covers  of   Miss  Edge- 


A    GAY  CAPTIVITY  233 

worth's  admirable  tales,  rewards  and  punishments  are 
not  meted  out  with  this  scrupulous  fidelity  to  deserts. 
When  the  Americans  regained  possession  of  the  Qua- 
ker City,  and  began  to  give  balls  in  their  turn,  they  laid 
their  laurels —  not  yet  imposing  wreaths  —  somewhat  in- 
discriminately at  the  feet  of  pretty  Whigs  and  Tories ; 
and  the  fair  Vicaresses  of  Bray,  who  had  danced  all 
night  at  the  Mischianza,  showed  the  same  irresistible 
vivacity  when  Arnold  opened  his  doors  for  an  enter- 
tainment which  rivalled  in  beauty  and  extravagance 
the  gay  routs  of  the  redcoat  winter.  Miss  Franks, 
indeed,  found  the  change  a  melancholy  one,  though 
there  were  not  wanting  American  officers  ready  and 
willing  to  fill  the  place  of  her  English  suitors.  Her 
exasperating  wit  was  more  piquant  than  gentle  loyalty, 
and  the  warmth  of  her  impetuous  heart  won  forgive- 
ness for  spirited  sallies  at  which  everybody  laughed, 
and  for  satiric  verses  at  which  nobody  could  have 
laughed,  —  they  were  so  exceedingly  bad.  New  York 
opened  for  her  fresh  scenes  of  gayety  and  dissipation 
until  she  married  a  young  English  officer,  Colonel 
Johnson  of  the  Seventeenth  Regiment,  and  sailed  for 
England,  never  to  return.  Her  husband  served  with 
distinction  in  many  campaigns,  succeeded  to  a  good 
estate,  and  was  made  a  baronet;  yet  Lady  Johnson, 
with  the  half  tender,  half  whimsical  perverseness  of 
so  many  clever  women,  cherished  in  old  age  a  regret- 
ful affection  for  the  country  she  had  abandoned,  and 


234  PHILADELPHIA 

for  the  cause  her  foolish  girlhood  had  scorned.  "  Would 
that  I,  too,  had  been  a  patriot,"  she  said  gently  to  Gen- 
eral Winfield  Scott,  when  he  visited  her  many  years 
afterwards  at  Bath.  "I  have  gloried  in  my  rebel 
countrymen." 

Sir  Henry  Clinton,  now  in  command  of  the  English 
forces,  was  eager  to  take  the  field;  but  found  it  no 
easy  matter  to  leave  Philadelphia  while  Washington 
held  himself  ever  in  readiness  to  swoop  down  on  the 
departing  army,  which  was  terribly  hampered  by  the 
number  of  citizens  who  wished  to  go  to  New  York 
under  its  protection,  and,  what  was  still  more  incon- 
venient, wished  to  carry  their  worldly  possessions  along 
with  them.  Three  thousand  prominent  Tories  had 
arranged,  indeed,  to  sail  with  Admiral  Howe's  fleet. 
They  dared  not  remain  in  the  town  after  the  protec- 
tion of  the  troops  had  been  withdrawn ;  so,  with 
heavy  hearts,  they  bade  farewell  to  their  birthplace, 
which  few  of  them  were  destined  to  see  again,  and 
on  the  seventeenth  of  June,  "the  finest  and  the  sad- 
dest night  I  ever  knew,"  wrote  one  reluctant  exile, 
they  beheld  for  the  last  time  the  old  familiar  lajid- 
marks  fade  slowly  in  the  deepening  gloom.  By  far 
the  greater  number  of  the  loyalists,  however,  placed 
themselves  under  the  care  of  the  army;  and  Clinton, 
having  completed  his  preparations  with  the  utmost  se- 
crecy, and  disposed  as  best  he  could  his  wagons,  artil- 
lery and  stores,  withdrew  his  forces  so  swiftly  and  so 


A   GAY  CAPTIVITY  235 

silently  during  the  night  that  followed  the  departure 
of  the  fleet,  that  none  knew  his  purpose  until  the  early 
morning  showed  the  city  streets  silent  and  deserted. 
"The  English  did  not  go  away,"  it  was  said,  "they  van- 
ished " ;  and  Miss  Wister  records  in  her  diary  the  aston- 
ishment that  was  felt  at  Gwynedd  when  the  unexpected 
news  reached  them.  The  word  flew  fast  and  far  over 
the  country-side,  and  a  few  hours  after  Clinton's  rear- 
guard had  left  Gloucester  Point,  a  regiment  of  Ameri- 
can dragoons  galloped  past  the  quiet  State  House 
yard.  The  fortunes  of  Philadelphia  had  reached 
another  turning-point;  a  new,  and  not  altogether  a 
joyful  life,  awaited  her. 

It  was  one  thing,  however,  for  the  Englishmen  to 
slip  off  on  their  perilous  march,  and  quite  another 
for  them  to  continue  it  in  safety.  Washington  was 
on  their  track :  his  forces  outnumbered  theirs,  and 
he  was  not  impeded  by  a  vast  quantity  of  stores  and 
luggage.  Whether  it  was  pride,  or  kindness,  or  sheer 
obstinacy  that  made  Clinton  hold  fast  to  the  mani- 
fold possessions  of  the  flying  Tories,  would  be  hard 
to  say.  At  one  moment  he  resolved  to  make  a  bon- 
fire of  all  their  encumbering  wagons,  and,  at  the  next, 
determined  to  keep  his  word,  and  guard  them  to  the 
end.  An  action  was  inevitable,  and  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  June  was  fought  the  often  discussed  and  in- 
decisive battle  of  Monmouth.  The  heat  was  terrible, 
— that  sudden,  ruthless,  mortal  heat  which  nature  holds 


236  PHILADELPHIA 

in  capricious  reserve,  and  which  is  her  chosen  weapon 
when  it  pleases  her  to  play  a  part  in  the  futile  strug- 
gles of  men.  Soldiers  fell  dead  in  their  ranks  with- 
out a  wound.  The  Hessians  roundly  swore  they  could 
not  and  would  not  fight  under  such  a  pitiless  sun. 
What  the  issue  of  the  combat  might  have  been,  had 
General  Charles  Lee  not  retreated  too  soon  over  the 
dangerous  morasses,  and  had  Washington  not  ad- 
vanced too  soon  to  attack  the  only  partially  en- 
tangled enemy,  is  a  point  which  still  interests  the 
student  of  military  tactics.  Ordinary  readers  are  con- 
tent to  know  that  the  action  was  without  results, 
and  that  the  lively  satisfaction  expressed  on  both 
sides  probably  meant  that  both  sides  were  equally 
discontented.  The  Americans  solaced  themselves  by 
court-martialling  and  disgracing  General  Lee.  The 
English  enjoyed  the  proud  consciousness  of  having 
saved  every  wagon-load,  of  stores,  at  the  sacrifice  of 
many  lives.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  pursued  his  way  to 
New  York  without  further  molestation,  and  Wash- 
ington, turning  back,  took  possession  of  Philadelphia. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LORDS   OF   MISRULE 

A  CITY  which  has  been  for  nine  months  in  the 
hands  of  a  foreign  enemy  is  always  a  pitiable 
sight.  Armies  are  demoralizing  things,  and  it  is 
only  after  they  have  taken  their  departure  that  the 
full  extent  of  the  mischief  they  have  wrought  becomes 
apparent  to  every  eye.  Sober  thrift  and  quiet  recti- 
tude have  well-nigh  vanished.  The  industrious  artisan 
has  become  a  midnight  brawler;  the  once  decent  young 
housewife  walks  the  streets,  an  outcast,  with  her 
bastard  baby  in  her  arms.  Restlessness  and  discontent 
are  in  the  very  air,  and  the  old,  dull,  decorous  life 
has  become  distasteful,  alike  to  men  and  women. 
Poor  Philadelphia,  .bruised,  and  sore,  and  shaken, 
needed  a  firm  and  kindly  rule  to  bring  her  back  to 
health;  but  having  suffered  sadly  from  her  foes,  she 
found  herself,  on  the  return  of  friends,  to  be  in  a 
far  worse  case  than  ever./It  is  true  there  were  not 
wanting  men  who,  like  Morris,  and  Wilson,  and  Dr. 
Rush,  strove  hard  to  stem  the  tide  of  violence,  and 
to  save  their  city  from  an  ignoble  reign  of  terror, 
which  had  not  even  the  saving  grace  of  mistaken 

237 


238  PHILADELPHIA 

enthusiasm.  But  loud-voiced  demagogues  held  the 
public  ear;  and  the  mob,  so  long  repressed  by  the 
presence  of  an  unsympathetic  soldiery,  was  once  more 
happy  and  alert.  There  was  a  fierce  demand  for 
vengeance  upon  Tories,  and  the  selection  of  a  few 
victims  to  appease  the  people  became  a  matter  of 
immediate  necessity.  The  men  picked  out  for  this 
purpose  were  well  chosen,  being  too  poor  and  humble 
to  have  troublesome  friends,  yet  not  so  absolutely 
insignificant  as  to  make  their  execution  a  matter  of 
no  moment  to  anybody.  They  were  both  Quakers,  a 
happy  stroke  of  diplomacy,  and  both  were  charged 
with  the  same  offence.  Carlisle,  a  carpenter,  had 
kept  one  of  the  city  gates  during  the  English  occu- 
pancy; and  Roberts,  a  miller,  though  no  such  impor- 
tant post  was  ever  assigned  him,  had  enlisted  under 
General  Howe's  command,  and  would  have  been  wiser 
had  he  departed  with  the  rest  of  the  troops. 

These  two  carefully  selected  malefactors  were  tried 
in  the  criminal  court  for  high  treason,  and  condemned 
to  death.  The  jury  that  brought  in  the  verdict  of 
guilty  recommended  them 'to  mercy,  and  petitions  for 
their  pardon  were  signed  by  many  hundreds  of  citi- 
zens, including  prominent  Whigs.  But  the  mob,  like 
the  Minotaur,  demanded  its  dole,  and  on  the  fourth 
of  November,  Elizabeth  Drinker  writes  sadly  in  her 
diary :  — 

"They  have  actually  put  to  death,  Hang'd  on   ye 


LORDS   OF  MISRULE 


239 


Commons,  John   Roberts   and   Abraham   Carlisle,  this 
morning.     An  awful  day  it  has  been." 

General  Arnold  was  placed  by  Washington  in  com- 
mand of  Philadelphia,  and  at  once  began  that  life  of 


WT.   PLEASANT  :   ARNOLD'S   HOME 

costly  and  formal  elegance  which  gave  universal  dis- 
satisfaction, and  to  supply  the  money  for  which  he 
plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  speculations.  It  is 
not  always  an  easy  matter  to  content  civilians,  who 
have  ever  been  wont  to  complain  loudly  of  the  wan- 
tonness of  soldiers;  and  we  find  the  irascible  Chris- 


240  PHILADELPHIA 

topher  Marshall  inveighing  with  much  bitterness 
against  the  officers  of  Washington's  staff :  "  Careless 
of  us,  but  carefully  consulting  where  they  shall  go  to 
spend  the  winter  in  jollity,  gaming,  and  carousing;  " 
a  reproach  to  which  the  wind-swept  hills  of  Valley 
Forge  could  have  made  answer  true.  Arnold's  un- 
popularity, however,  was  a  serious  matter.  In  social 
life  he  had  many  friends,  and  his  marriage  with  Miss 
Margaret  Shippen  allied  him  closely  to  the  most 
prominent  families  in  Philadelphia ;  but  the  people  in 
general  —  not  the  rabble,  but  the  respectable  portion 
of  the  community  —  were  deeply  angered  by  his 
pride,  and  regarded  his  suddenly  acquired  wealth 
with  equal  envy  and  mistrust.  Joseph  Reed,  the 
president  of  the  Executive  Council  and  the  acknow- 
ledged leader  of  the  Constitutionalists,  was  his 
avowed  enemy;  and  the  quarrels  between  these  two 
opposing  powers  relieved  Philadelphia  of  any  op- 
pressive dulness  during  the  autumn  and  early  winter 
of  1779.  Reed  accused  Arnold  of  gross  venality; 
Arnold  accused  Reed  of  inciting  riots,  and  laid  upon 
his  shoulders  —  unjustly — the  blame  for  the  shame- 
ful inertness  which  permitted  a  mob  of  only  two 
hundred  men  to  destroy  what  property  it  pleased  on 
the  fourth  of  October,  and  to  shoot  Captain  Camp- 
bell at  the  window  of  his  own  house. 

In  truth,  it  was  a  time  of  reckless  agitation,  and 
the   spirit   of    revolt   against  all   authority,   public   or 


LORDS  OF  MISRULE  241 

private,  was  rapidly  undermining  common  safety  and 
domestic  restraint.  Elizabeth  Drinker  writes  on  one 
page  of  her  journal :  "  Our  great  men,  or  ye  men  in 
Power,  are  quarrelling  very  much  among  themselves;" 
and  on  the  next,  with  a  ludicrous  appreciation  of 
her  own  personal  discomfort  in  this  fine,  strange  at- 
mosphere of  freedom :  "  Our  new  maid  had  a  visitor 
all  day,  and  has  invited  her  to  lodge  with  her,  with- 
out asking  leave.  Times  are  much  changed,  and 
Maids  have  become  Mistresses." 

We  hear  a  great  deal  during  the  next  few  years,  both 
in  letters  and  journals,  about  the  vexatious  behaviour 
of  servants.  Marshall  grows  eloquent  on  the  subject, 
and  confesses  that  his  wife  has  been  made  ill  more 
than  once  by  sheer  anxiety  for  a  little  lass  who 
has  been  bound  to  them,  and  who  persists,  notwith- 
standing many  exhortations  and  corrections,  in  stay- 
ing out  all  night.  /The  streets  of  Philadelphia,  once 
so  quiet  and  secure,  were  no  longer  safe  for  any 
woman  after  the  twilight  hour.  The  country  roads, 
once  peaceful  as  those  of  Arcady,  were  now  infested 
by  prowling  soldiers,  deserters,  and  highwaymen.^ 
The  history  of  the  Doans,  five  robber  brothers, 
"strong,  handsome,  generous,  and  humane,"  —  if  we 
may  trust  contemporary  records,  —  affords  a  pleasing 
illustration  of  the  time.  These  famous  and  very 
popular  outlaws  were  Tory  sympathizers  who,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  hoped  to  preserve  a  strict  neu- 


242  PHILADELPHIA 

trality;  but  who  found  themselves  soon  objects  of 
suspicion  and  attack.  They  were  heavily  fined  for 
non-attendance  on  militia  duty,  their  stock  was  sold, 
their  farm  was  confiscated.  They  then  resolved  to 
follow  the  memorable  examples  of  Dick  Turpin  and 
Claude  Duval,  and,  taking  the  road,  became  a  terror 
to  the  whole  country-side.  Like  their  models,  they 
were  capriciously  generous,  giving  freely  to  the  poor 
what  they  stole  from  the  rich;  and  the  small  farmers 
of  the  neighbourhood,  whose  political  principles  were 
of  the  vaguest  order,  had  no  fault  to  find  with  men 
who  never  took  so  much  as  a  turnip  from  their  fields, 
and  who  often  assisted  them  in  the  profitable  but  peri- 
lous business  of  supplying  food  to  the  hungry  Eng- 
lish soldiers.  Women,  with  their  customary  disregard 
for  dull  integrity,  looked  upon  the  five  brothers  as 
heroes  of  romance ;  and  children,  listening  eagerly  to 
tales  of  their  intrepid  exploits,  resolved  to  be  high- 
waymen themselves  as  soon  as  ever  they  were  grown. 
"  The  Doans,"  we  are  told,  "  delighted  to  injure  pub- 
lic property,  but  did  no  harm  to  the  weak,  the  poor, 
or  the  peaceful." 

Even  public  property,  however,  deserves  some  sort 
of  protection,  and  even  the  rich  weary  in  time  of  being 
despoiled.  When  the  depredations  of  these  spirited  out- 
laws became  too  heavy  for  endurance,  a  strong  body  of 
militia  was  sent  to  assist  the  sheriff  in  tracking  them 
down.  They  were  hunted  day  and  night,  were  finally 


LOKDS  OF  MISRULE  243 

brought  to  bay,  and  made  a  most  desperate  resistance. 
Two  were  shot  dead  by  the  soldiers,  one  escaped,  and 
two  were  brought  prisoners  to  Philadelphia,  and  hanged 
without  delay.  In  the  city  they  excited  profound  sym- 
pathy. "  Many  temperate  people,"  says  their  historian, 
"expressed  great  commiseration  for  them";  and  the 
memory  of  their  courage  and  their  kindness  surviving 
the  memory  of  their  misdeeds,  they  grew  in  time  to  be 
considered  as  upholders  of  a  lost  cause,  rather  than 
criminals  brought  to  justice,  and  expiating  their  offences 
against  society  upon  the  gallows-tree. 

None  of  this  sentimental  regard  was  evinced  for  an- 
other class  of  law-breakers,  whose  transgressions  were 
of  the  mildest  order,  and  who  sinned  against  the  com- 
munity, only  that  they  might  obey  the  troublesome 
dictates  of  their  consciences.  /^The  Quakers  could  not 
and  would  not  serve  in  the  militia.  Strict  members  of 
the  Society  held  it  unlawful  to  offer  an  armed  resistance 
to  any  authority,  however  tyrannous  and  oppressive. 
This  subjected  them  to  heavy  fines,  which,  unhappily, 
they  thought  it,  not  only  inconvenient,  but  wrong,  to 
pay.  Certain  taxes  levied  for  military  purposes  were 
also  regarded  by  them  as  iniquitous,  and  they  opposed 
to  all  such  measures  their  old  weapon  of  passive,  im- 
pregnable obstinacy.  /In  colonial  days,  wise  men  like 
Benjamin  Franklin  had  known  how  to  circumvent  these 
ill-timed  scruples;  and  the  Quakers  had  not  always  been 
averse  to  the  diplomacy  which  wrested  from  them 


244  PHILADELPHIA 

measures  they  could  not  openly  concede,  and  saved  them 
from  a  dangerous  rupture  with  conflicting  powers.  But 
the  men  now  holding  authority  were  in  no  humour  for 
dallying  with  the  disaffected,  or  making  allowances  for 
perverse  conscientiousness.  The  Friends,  moreover, 
were  exceedingly  unpopular  with  the  mob,  which  was 
sure  to  applaud  any  severe  measures  passed  against  them. 
Already  many  prominent  members  of  the  Society  had 
suffered  banishment  and  confiscation.  </  Those  who  re- 
mained were  liable  at  any  time  to  have  their  houses 
searched  for  English  goods,  or  their  furniture  dragged 
away  to  be  sold  for  an  unpaid  fine.  The  entries  in 
Elizabeth  Drinker's  diary  show  her  to  have  lost  in  this 
manner  so  many  of  her  household  chattels,  that  the 
reader  wonders  she  had  pot  or  pan,  chair  or  table,  left 
in  her  pillaged  home.  There  is  something  irresistibly 
pathetic  in  the  sight  of  any  woman  despoiled  of  those 
belongings  to  which  she  clings  with  an  affection  man 
seldom  understands  ;  and  our  sympathy  for  this  Quaker 
housewife  is  all  the  keener  because  she  utters  no  word 
of  complaint,  but  states  as  briefly  as  possible,  and  with- 
out comment,  the  losses  she  suffers  day  by  day. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  June,  1779,  she  writes  :  "  George 
Pickering  came  this  afternoon  for  ye  Non-association 
fine,  which  came  to  thirteen  pounds,  which  is  thirteen 
shillings,  as  ye  money  now  is  exchanged  twenty  to  one. 
He  took  a  Looking-glass  worth  between  forty  and  fifty 
shillings,  six  newfashioned  Pewter  plates,  and  a  three 


LORDS  OF  MISRULE  245 

quart  Pewter  Bason,  little  or  nothing  the  worse  for  ye 
wear." 

Again,  in  the  early  autumn,  she  makes  a  similar 
entry:  "This  morning,  in  meeting  time,  (myself  at 
home)  Jacob  Franks  and  a  son  of  Cling,  ye  Vendue 
Master,  came  to  seize  for  ye  Continental  Tax.  They 
took  from  us  one  Walnut  Dining-Table,  one  Mahogany 
Tea-Table,  six  handsome  Walnut  Chairs  with  open 
backs,  crow  feet,  a  shell  on  ye  back  and  on  each 
knee," — how  lovingly  minute  this  description!  —  "a 
Mahogany-framed  Sconce  Looking-glass,  and  two  large 
Pewter  Dishes.  They  carried  them  off  in  a  cart  from 
ye  door  to  ding's." 

Poor  mistress  of  an  empty  house  who  watched  her 
well-kept  chairs  dragged  off  in  this  ignominious  way  to 
public  execution,  and  whose  grief  at  losing  them  was 
heightened  by  the  knowledge  that  the  miserable  sums 
for  which  they  were  to  be  sold  bore  no  proportion  to 
their  value  !  There  is  real  bitterness  —  though  still  no 
open  outcry  --  in  the  brief  note  of  May  1,  1780: 
"  Jeremiah  Baker  took  a  Mahogany  folding  Card-Table 
from  us  this  morning,  for  a  Northern  Liberty  Tax 
amounting  to  about  eighteen  shillings.  Ye  Table  was 
worth  between  three  and  four  pounds." 

How  very  much  easier  and  more  agreeable  to  have 
paid  the  eighteen  shillings,  we  cannot  help  thinking; 
but  there  is  no  tyrant  so  oppressive  as  an  inexorable 
conscience,  and  it  is  plain  that  this  alternative  never 


246 


PHTLADELPBtA 


even  presented  itself  to  the  minds  of  the  unfortunate 
Quakers,  despoiled  by  the  strong  hand  of  the  law. 

All  this  time,  the  depreciation  of  the  currency,  the 
scarcity  of  provisions,  the  alarmingly  high  prices 
demanded  for  the  bare  necessities  of  life,  and  the  grow- 
ing unwillingness  of  merchants  to  sell  at  any  price, 


WOODFOBD  HOUSE 


were  fast  bringing  Philadelphia  to  a  condition  of  abso- 
lute distress.  The  angry  Constitutionalists  clung  to 
the  notion  that  the  remedy  for  these  evils  lay  in 
stringent  legislation,  and  they  resolved  to  bully  the 
State  back  into  its  old  prosperity.  It  was  not  possible, 
indeed,  for  the  Committee  of  Inspection  to  make 
butter,  sorely  though  the  butter  was  needed ;  but  it 
was  possible  to  pass  a  law,  forbidding  any  man  to  pay 


LORDS  OF  MISRULE  247 

more  than  fifteen  shillings  a  pound  for  it.  Neither 
could  the  members  of  the  Committee  grow  wheat, 
though  the  poor  cried  out  for  bread;  but  they  could 
devise  another  law,  forbidding  farmers  and  traders  to 
sell  their  grain  privately,  or  to  ask  its  full  value  in 
the  open  markets.  Nothing  is  easier  than  this  kind 
of  legislation,  and  nothing  more  purely  inefficacious.  — 
"There  shall  be  in  England  seven  half-penny  loaves 
sold  for  a  penny ;  the  three-hooped  pot  shall  have  ten 
hoops ;  and  I  will  make  it  felony  to  drink  small  beer." 
Rather  than  part  with  goods  at  a  loss,  the  merchants 
closed  their  shops,  the  importers  concealed  their  stores, 
the  farmers  brought  no  more  provisions  for  the  hungry 
townsfolk  to  eat. 

Congress,  meanwhile,  was  helping  liberally  to  lead 
the  country  to  financial  dishonour  and  ruin  by  re- 
peated issues  of  worthless  paper,  —  five  millions  one 
month,  ten  millions  another,  twenty  millions  the  next, 
until  the  currency  became  so  absolutely  valueless  as 
to  pass  into  a  familiar  proverb,  —  "  not  worth  a  Con- 
tinental." By  the  close  of  the  war,  four  hundred 
dollars  of  American  money  would  not  bring  four 
English  shillings ;  but  as  early  as  1780,  a  man  might 
come  perilously  nigh  starvation  while  his  pockets  were 
lined  with  notes.  "  I  have  more  money  than  ever  I 
had,  but  I  am  poorer  than  ever  I  was,"  complained  a 
writer  in  Dunlap's  Packet;  and  his  state  was  the  state 
of  all.  An  apprentice  lad  named  Leyham,  having 


248  PHILADELPHIA 

served  two  months  in  the  militia,  received  two  hundred 
dollars  for  his  pay.  He  bought  a  pair  of  shoes  for  one 
hundred  dollars,  invested  another  hundred  in  a  sleigh- 
ride,  and  went  empty-handed  home.  A  Philadelphia 
barber  of  a  humorous  turn  of  mind  papered  the  walls 
of  his  shop  with  the  depreciated  currency,  to  the  huge 
delight  of  his  customers.  At  the  sale  of  Cornelius 
Land's  household  effects,  a  frying-pan  brought  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  dollars ;  a  wood-saw,  one  hundred 
and  eighty-five  dollars ;  three  steel  forks,  one  hundred 
and  twelve  dollars,  and  an  old  clock,  eleven  hundred 
dollars.  Silk  sold  in  the  Philadelphia  shops  at  one  hun- 
dred dollars  a  yard,  tea  at  sixty  dollars  a  pound.  A 
bill  of  Colonel  Allen's  has  come  down  to  us  from  this 
happy  period,  and  illustrates  the  formidable  cost  of  arti- 
cles which  could  never  have  been  considered  luxuries. 

"  1  Pair  Boots 1600.00 

6  £  yds.  Calico,  at  $85  per  Yard         .  .  752.00 

6  yds.  Chintz,  at  |150  do.       ".         .  .  900.00 

4£  yds.  Moreen,  at  $100  do.                .   '  .  450.00 

4  Handkerchiefs,  at  $100  each  .         .  .  400.00 

8  yds.  Quality  Binding,  at  $4  per  Yard  .  32.00 

1  Skein  Silk  10.00 


$3,144.00 
"Jan.  5th,  1781." 

Quite  a  little  fortune  for  such  a  modest  account. 
How  many  thousands  of  dollars  must  a  woman  have 
crowded  into  her  purse,  when  she  went  forth  to  do  a 
morning's  shopping ! 


LORDS   OF  MISRULE  249 

It  seems  incredible  that  men  could  be  found  willing 
to  play  their  parts  in  this  financial  farce,  and  to  thrust 
the  dismal  diversion  upon  others.  But  in  the  spring  of 
1781  a  new  issue  of  paper  currency  was  ordered,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  stringent  laws  were  passed  to  compel 
the  people  to  receive  it.  Any  one  who  expressed  a 
preference  for  real  money,  when  this  make-believe 
money  was  offered  to  him,  should  be  taught  by  heavy 
fines  the  wickedness  of  such  unpatriotic  discrimination. 
A  small  minority  of  Anti-Constitutionalists,  led  by 
Robert  Morris  and  Thomas  Mifflin,  did,  indeed,  oppose 
the  measure  with  all  their  strength ;  and,  knowing  too 
well  such  opposition  was  in  vain,  Morris  prepared  and 
offered  to  the  Assembly  a  protest,  in  which  he  expressed 
in  no  unfaltering  terms  the  contempt  of  a  sane  and 
honourable  man  for  such  wanton  destruction  of  the 
public  credit.  The  time  was  soon  to  come  when  the 
finances  of  the  country  were  to  be  in  his  capable 
hands  ;  but,  even  in  the  present  chaotic  confusion, 
he  laboured  hard  to  bring  about  some  semblance  of 
law  and  order.  The  Bank  of  Pennsylvania,  which 
was  founded  solely  in  the  interest  of  Washington's 
army,  was  due  largely  to  his  ability  and  munificence. 
Without  its  help,  the  ragged  and  hungry  troops 
must  have  either  disbanded  or  starved  in  their 
quarters.  The  Bank  of  North  America,  chartered  by 
Congress  as  well  as  by  the  Assembly,  was  organized 
upon  his  plans,  and  controlled  by  his  policy.  In  the 


250 


PHILADELPHIA 


days  of  our  deepest  humiliation  it  restored  credit, 
quickened  commerce,  supplied  some  measure  of  in- 
tegrity, and  saved  us  from  financial  ruin.  Its  history, 
however,  belongs  to  a  later  period,  when  foreign  foes 
had  yielded  their  place  to  domestic  enemies,  less  easily 
^  reckoned  with,  and  far  less  easily  sub- 

^~-y^^SS£^--^^-—  dued' 

=^JL  In  January,  1779,  Con- 

gress  celebrated  with  a 
.  great  civic  ban- 
!  quet  the  long  de- 
sired and  long 
delayed  alliance 
with  France.  It 
had  been  no  easy 
task  for  Franklin 
to  cement  this 
alliance,  and  to 
make  of  senti- 
mental friendship  a 
firm  national  bond. 
The  French,  in- 
deed, had  received  him  with  effusive  delight.  He  was 
the  idol  of  the  hour.  His  house  at  Passy  was  the  resort 
of  statesmen,  scientists,  and  scholars.  If  he  appeared 
in  the  streets,  the  mob  shouted  itself  hoarse  in  his 
honour;  when  he  went  to  court,  fair  ladies  dropped 
wreaths  upon  his  head,  which  must  have  been  inex* 


STAIRWAY   IN   STATE  HOUSE 


LOEDS   OF  MISRULE  251 

pressibly  embarrassing.  Wits  praised  his  conversation, 
dandies,  his  dress,  and  poets  dedicated  to  him  verses 
that  were  fully  as  bad  as  his  own.  His  benignant 
features  were  painted  over  and  over  again,  and  his 
portraits  set  in  lockets,  rings,  and  snuff-boxes.  Learned 
Academicians  shed  tears  of  joy  on  seeing  him  embraced 
by  Voltaire.  The  enthusiasm  he  aroused  extended  it- 
self to  the  country  he  represented;  and  the  cause  of 
the  colonists  was  pronounced  to  be  the  cause  of  justice, 
liberty,  and  humanity.  Yet  none  the  less,  France  hesi- 
tated long  ere  she  sent  her  aid  to  these  admirable 
patriots,  the  success  of  whose  arms  seemed  then  more 
than  doubtful;  and  French  capitalists  prudently  de- 
clined to  lend  a  single  franc  to  men  whose  courage 
and  principles  they  ardently  admired,  but  .whose  finan- 
ciering was  open  to  objections.  From  the  universal 
admiration .  for  all  things  pertaining  to  America,  the 
American  currency  was  most  unkindly  omitted. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  allurements  of  a  bril- 
liant society,  and  the  still  more  congenial  companion- 
ship of  learned  men,  beguiled  Franklin  into  an 
occasional  neglect  of  his  mission.  He  wrote  some 
excellent  pamphlets  which  few  people  read,  and 
which  convinced  nobody;  and  he  assured  his  friends 
at  home  that  nothing  but  their  own  success  would 
persuade  France  to  become  their  ally.  This  was 
true.  Burgoyne's  surrender  at  Saratoga  did  more 
service  than  a  year's  hard  talking.  For  the  first  time, 


252  PHILADELPHIA 

French  strategists  thought  it  worth  while  to  lend  aid 
to  the  colonies,  in  the  hope  of  injuring  Great  Britain. 
The  treaty  which  recognized  the  independence  of  the 
United  States  was  signed  February  sixth,  1778;  the 
following  month,  Franklin  was  formally  received  at 
court  as  an  American  commissioner;  and,  on  the  thir- 
teenth of  April,  D'Estaing  sailed  with  his  fleet  from 
Toulon. 

The  arrival  in  France  of  that  clear-headed  man  of 
affairs,  John  Adams,  brought  order  out  of  chaos,  and 
gave  a  less  sentimental  basis  to  the  friendship  be- 
tween the  two  nations.  Franklin  was  appointed  our 
minister;  and,  while  Adams  toiled  like  a  clerk  in  the 
commissioner's  office,  the  philosopher  played  chess 
with  Mme.  Brillon,  or  wrote  his  famous  "  Bagatelles  " 
for  the  amusement  of  that  vivacious  slattern,  Mme. 
Helvetius.  He  was  now  over  seventy,  and  had  merited 
a  few  years  of  trifling  by  a  lifetime  of  arduous  and 
useful  labour.  Leisure  he  enjoyed,  as  well  as  the 
lively  and  affectionate  society  of  women.  The  en- 
thusiasm manifested  by  France  for  himself,  and  for 
his  work,  awakened  in  his  heart  corresponding  senti- 
ments of  cordiality ;  and  he  had  no  fault  to  find  with 
this  Arcadian  and  misrepresented  nation,  save  that 
it  took  too  much  snuff,  and  wore  too  much  powder- 
on  its  hair,  —  offences  so  venial  they  could  hardly 
have  merited  a  revolution  for  their  Nemesis.  At 
times,  amid  the  pleasures  and  honours  of  his  official 


LORDS  OF  MISRULE  253 

life,  he  sighed  for  his  old  home,  and  begged  to  be 
recalled ;  but  his  popularity  was  so  great,  and  his 
name  carried  with  it  such  weight  and  influence 
in  diplomatic  circles,  that  it  was  not  deemed  expedi- 
ent to  permit  his  return  until  1785,  when  Thomas 
Jefferson  was  sent  to  fill  his  place. 

The  alliance  with  France  infused  fresh  hope  and 
courage  into  the  hearts  of  the  despondent  Americans. 
On  the  twenty-fifth  of  August,  1780,  the  Chevalier  de 
Luzerne  gave  a  grand  entertainment  to  the  members 
of  Congress  and  other  prominent  citizens,  in  honour 
of  the  French  King's  birthday.  Our  enthusiasm  for 
our  allies  was  mounting  fast  to  fever  heat,  and,  in- 
deed, the  country  sorely  needed  any  emotion  which 
could  enliven  or  sustain  it.  Confidence  was  lost. 
Our  troops,  ill-fed,  ill-clad,  unpaid,  were  sullen  and 
mutinous,  held  in  their  ranks  with  difficulty,  not- 
withstanding the  brutal  punishments  inflicted  on  de- 
serters, and  accustomed  to  revenge  their  own  hardships 
upon  the  farmers  and  country  people  whom  they  plun- 
dered without  mercy.  The  feeble  resources  of  the 
revenue  had  been  taxed  to  the  utmost.  Political 
leaders,  impotent  for  good,  were  quarrelling  fiercely 
among  themselves,  and  Philadelphia  was  the  chosen 
arena  for  their  disgraceful  strife.  "  It  is  obvious," 
wrote  Reed  to  Washington,  "that  the  bulk  of  the 
people  are  weary  of  the  war " ;  and  Washington 
sadly  confessed  in  return  that  never  before  had  he 


254  PHILADELPHIA 

seen  the  discontent  so  general  and  so  alarming.  The 
French  officers  were  angry  and  aghast  at  the  forlorn 
condition  of  our  affairs,  which  seemed  hopeless  to 
men  who  could  not  understand  what  splendours  of 
endurance  and  action  still  lay  behind  that  "slough  of 
Despond."  "  Send  us  ships,  troops,  and  money," 
wrote  Rochambeau  to  Vergennes;  "but  do  not  de- 
pend upon  these  people,  nor  upon  their  means." 

When  the  skies  were  darkest,  and  brave  hearts  were 
heaviest,  came  the  news  of  Arnold's  proposed  treachery, 
casting  a  taint  of  dishonour  upon  the  whole  country, 
and  adding  a  burden  of  bitter  humiliation  to  the  ac- 
cumulated disasters  of  the  war.  The  plot,  indeed, 
was  discovered,  West  Point  was  saved,  and  Andre  died 
a  shameful  death  on  the  bleak  hillside  of  Tappan. 

"He  was  not  slain  with  the  sword, 
Knight's  axe,  or  the  knightly  spear ; " 

and  the  tragic  sharpness  of  his  fate  has  made  imper- 
ishable the  name  of  the  blithe  young  soldier  whose 
race  was  so  swiftly  run.  He  is  truly  the  world's  con- 
queror whose  name  the  world  holds  dear.  Not  years 
of  honourable  work,  well  done  and  amply  rewarded, 
win  this  capricious  and  undying  regard;  but  rather 
the  sudden  snatching  away  of  life  full  to  the  brim 
of  gladness,  and  gay  courage,  and  the  promise  of 
noble  things.  Andre's  remains  were  carried  over 
the  sea  in  1821,  and  interred  in  the  south  aisle  of 


LORDS  OF  MISRULE  255 

Westminster  Abbey,  where  sleep  the  best  and  bravest 
of  England's  soldier  sons.  The  inscription  on  his 
monument  states  simply  that  he  was  beloved  by  his 
fellow  officers,  and  that  he  died  for  his  country  and 
his  King. 

In  Philadelphia,  where  Arnold  was  so  well  known, 
and  where  the  proudest  and  happiest  period  of  his 
life  had  been  passed,  the  news  of  his  treason  awakened 
a  fierce  but  easily  allayed  excitement.  His  estate  was 
immediately  confiscated,  and  everything  that  belonged 
to  him  was  publicly  sold.  His  wife  entreated  permis- 
sion to  remain  under  her  father,  Mr.  Edward  Ship- 
pen's,  protection ;  but  this  grace  was  denied  her,  and 
she  received  orders  from  the  Executive  Council  to 
leave  Pennsylvania  within  two  weeks.  She  joined 
her  husband  in  New  York,  and  subsequently  went  with 
him  to  London,  where  Sir  Banastre  Tarleton  was  wont 
to  declare  her  the  handsomest  woman  in  Great  Britain. 
The  Philadelphia  mob  solaced  itself  by  hanging  Arnold 
in  effigy,  and  expended  much  wit  in  devising  a  figure 
with  two  faces,  which  held  a  mask  in  its  hand,  and  rep- 
resented the  traitor.  This  puppet  was  dragged  in  a 
cart  through  the  streets,  accompanied  by  a  picturesque 
and,  it  was  hoped,  accurate  facsimile  of  the  devil, 
and  preceded  by  a  band  of  music  making  all  the 
noise  it  could.  The  'populace  was  so  well  amused  by 
the  procession,  and  by  the  hanging  and  burning  of 
the  effigy,  that  it  neglected  its  usual  pastimes.  No 


256  PHILADELPHIA 

Tories  were  stoned,  no  doors  nor  windows  broken, 
no  property  of  any  kind  destroyed,  though  many 
citizens,  as  guiltless  as  the  puppet,  passed  anxious 
hours  before  the  peaceful  rising  of  the  sun. 

In  September,  1781,  the  French  troops  under  Count 
Rochambeau  passed  through  Philadelphia  on  their  way 
south,  where  the  repeated  successes  of  the  American 
arms  had  given  a  new  aspect  to  the  war,  and  filled 
despondent  hearts  with  hope.  The  splendid  appear- 
ance of  these  foreign  allies,  their  martial  bearing,  their 
debonair  gayety  and  good-humour  won  universal  ad- 
miration. The  regiment  De  Soissonnais  especially, 
in  its  picturesque  uniform  with  rose-coloured  facings 
and  white  and  rose-coloured  plumes,  lent  a  most 
welcome  air  of  brightness  and  well-being  to  our  for- 
lorn, threadbare  army,  which  had  never  been  fine,  and 
which  was  now  pathetically  shabby.  The  Frenchmen 
were  reviewed  by  Chief  Justice  McKean,  who  wore 
on  this  occasion  a  brave  suit  of  black  velvet  which 
must  have  cost  at  least  five  thousand  dollars  of  Conti- 
nental currency.  General  Washington,  Count  Ro- 
chambeau, and  M.  de  Luzerne  were  present ;  and  the 
universal  satisfaction  was  vastly  increased  when  it 
was  made  known  that  four  hundred  thousand  crowns 
had  come  over  from  France,  and  that  there  was  once 
more  a  prospect  of  our  own  troops  wearing  —  not  rose- 
coloured  plumes,  but  sound  shoes  and  decent  breeches. 
So  great  was  the  public  joy  over  this  brighter  outlook, 


LORDS  OF  MISRULE  257 

that  the  mob  in  buoyant  mood  surrounded  the  resi- 
dence of  M.  de  Luzerne,  and  kept  him  awake  all 
night  by  shouting  lustily  for  King  Louis  XVI. 

Before  the  allied  armies  left  for  the  south,  news  of 
a  still  more  important  character  was  brought  to  cheer 
them  on  their  way.  The  French  fleet  under  the  com- 
mand of  Count  de  Grasse  had  crossed  the  seas  in 
safety,  and  lay  awaiting  further  orders  in  the  Chesa- 
peake. It  was  this  fleet  which,  closing  in  on  the 
Virginia  coast,  cut  off  from  the  English  army  all 
chance  of  escape  by  water,  and  compelled  Lord 
Cornwallis  to  surrender  to  General  Washington  at 
Yorktown,  October  19,  1781.  On  the  twenty-third  of 
October,  two  hours  before  sunrise,  the  word  was 
carried  by  an  express  rider  into  sleepy  Philadelphia; 
and  a  German  watchman,  who  was  the  first  to  hear 
the  news,  proceeded  tranquilly  on  his  rounds,  an- 
nouncing at  intervals  to  such  as  lay  awake  to  listen: 
"  Past  three  o'clock,  and  Lord  Cornwallis  is  taken." 


CHAPTER  XV 

RECONSTRUCTION 

r~HHE  surrender  at  Yorktown  practically  closed  the 
war,  although  the  treaty  of  peace  was  not  signed 
until  two  years  later.  A  burden  was  lifted  from  the 
hearts  of  men,  and  every  colony  joined  in  the  universal 
thanksgiving.  Philadelphia  expressed  her  lively  satis- 
faction after  her  time-honoured  methods ;  rang  her  bells 
with  joyful  ardour,  fired  salutes  all  day  long,  and  sent 
off  countless  rockets  at  night.  Weary  of  war  and  of 
politics,  she  longed  to  be  a  little  gay  and  cheerful  once 
again,  albeit  the  State  House  walls  still  echoed  the  wran- 
gling of  her  leaders.  The  South wark  Theatre,  which 
had  been  closed  since  the  English  occupation,  was 
opened  with  cautious  courage  under  the  euphonious  title 
of  "Academy  of  Polite  Science,"  as  the  word  theatre 
still  stuck  in  the  throats  of  the  godly;  and  the  first 
representation  was  given  in  honour  of  General  Wash- 
ington after  his  return  from  Virginia.  Beaumarchais' 
"  Eugenie  "  was  the  play,  with  "  The  Lying  Valet "  for 
an  afterpiece;  and  there  was  moreover  a  fine  patriotic 
prologue,  designed  to  soften  the  hearts  of  the  Pres- 
byterians, and  a  grand  transparency  symbolizing  the 

258 


HECONSTE  UCTION 


259 


union  of  the   States,  to  please    all   the   distinguished 
officers  who  were  present. 

In  point  of  fact,  no  one  was  more  grateful  for  a  little 
timely  diversion  than  Washington,  for  on  his  shoulders 
had  fallen  burdens  too  heavy  to  be  carried,  and  anxieties 
too  keen  to  be  endured.  Relaxation  of  some  kind  was 
a  supreme  necessity ;  and  he  had,  in  addition,  that  love 


WASHINGTON'S  DESK 

of  pleasure  which  was  inherent  in  every  Virginia  gentle- 
man. It  was  not  the  theatre  alone  which  delighted  him, 
but  the  circus,  and  every  other  show,  including  balloon 
ascensions,  which  were  perhaps  his  supreme  favourites, 
and  cock-fights,  which  he  relished  as  unblushingly  as 
Christopher  North.  The  minute  record  he  kept  of  his 
expenses  enables  us  to  know  how  ardently  he  tried  to 
amuse  himself,  and  how  little  the  country  afforded  in 


260  PHILADELPHIA 

the  way  of  entertainment.  He  gave  nine  shillings  to  a 
man  "who  brought  an  elk  to  exhibit";  and  he  went 
with  impartial  avidity  to  see  an  automaton,  a  dancing 
bear,  a  puppet  show,  waxworks,  and  a  tiny  menagerie, 
which  consisted  exclusively  of  a  tiger  and  a  lioness.  He 
had  a  passion  for  lotteries  and  raffles,  in  both  of  which 
he  was  distinctly  unlucky  all  his  life.  The  money  he 
invested  in  lottery  tickets  brought  him  in  scant  return, 
and  he  never  drew  one  of  the  alluring  things  for  which 
he  purchased  a  chance.  Whether  it  were  a  necklace, 
a  coach,  a  watch,  or  a  gun,  he  met  with  the  same  unfail- 
ing disappointment.  "  By  profit  and  loss,  in  two  chances 
in  raffling  for  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  which  I  did  not 
win,  £1/4,"  —  is  a  characteristic  entry  in  his  account 
book. 

On  the  thirteenth  of  May,  1781,  M.  de  Luzerne  for- 
mally announced  to  Congress  the  birth  of  the  Dauphin 
of  France,  a  child  who  escaped  by  an  early  death  the 
bitter  fate  of  his  younger  brother,  the  boy  martyr  of 
the  Temple,  the  most  pathetic  figure  in  history's  blood- 
stained page.  A  letter  from  the  King  was  presented 
and  read  on  this  occasion,  and  much  public  interest  was 
manifested.  Indeed,  our  affection  for  our  allies  had  by 
this  time  reached  its  height,  and  the  little  prince  was 
the  object  of  an  enthusiasm  as  keen  and  as  transient  as 
if  we  had  been  his  hereditary  subjects.  The  general 
satisfaction  was  quickened  into  delight  when,  on  the 
fifteenth  of  July,  M.  de  Luzerne  gave  his  celebrated  fete 


RECONSTRUCTION  261 

du  Dauphin,  the  most  costly  and  beautiful  entertainment 
Philadelphia  had  witnessed  since  the  Mischianza.  Fif- 
teen hundred  guests  were  invited,  who  arrived  promptly 
at  half -past  seven.  The  gardens  surrounding  the  min- 
ister's house  were  brilliantly  illuminated,  and  a  hall  or 
pavilion,  open  to  the  air,  was  erected  for  the  dancers. 
The  contemporary  descriptions  of  this  garden  and  this 
hall  sound  like  Aladdin's  palace.  It  is  difficult  to 
read  the  glowing  paragraphs,  and  imagine  arches,  colon- 
nades, leafy  bowers,  glittering  domes,  and  deep  romantic 
groves  as  parts  of  the  old  Carpenter  Mansion  at  Sixth 
and  Chestnut  Streets. 

The  interior  of  the  dancing-hall,  which  had  been 
built  by  a  French  architect  in  less  than  six  weeks, 
was  elaborately  ornamented,  and  lit  by  hundreds  of 
tapers.  Four  statues  stood  within  four  niches:  Diana 
hurling  her  spear,  Flora  garlanded  with  roses,  Hebe 
holding  Jove's  cup,  and  Mars  leaning  on  his  shield, 
upon  which  was  appropriately  engraved  the  cipher  of 
General  Washington.  The  entertainment,  as  gener- 
ous as  the  Mischianza,  began  with  a  concert,  after 
which  came  a  display  of  fireworks,  "of  superior  and 
unrivalled  excellence."  The  ball  was  then  formally 
opened,  and  at  one  o'clock  supper  was  served.  Thirty 
army  cooks  were  engaged  to  prepare  this  supper,  and, 
as  they  were  French  army  cooks,  it  was  probably  good. 
The  heat  was  oppressive,  and  although  we  are  assured 
that  "joy  did  not  cease  to  sparkle  in  every  eye,"  it  is 


262  PHILADELPHIA 

evident  that  it  sparkled  languidly,  and  that  even  the 
youngest  and  gayest  of  the  guests  felt  dancing  to  be 
a  diversion  ill-suited  for  such  a  tropical  night. 

Philadelphia  was,  indeed,  singularly  unfortunate  in 
having  all  her  anniversaries  and  grand  celebrations  in 
midsummer.  George  III.  had  been  born,  reasonably 
enough,  on  the  fourth  of  June ;  and  in  the  old  loyal 
days  it  had  required  no  great  endurance  to  eat  noon- 
tide dinners  in  his  honour  on  the  Schuylkill's  pleas- 
ant banks.  But  the  French  King's  birthday,  which 
was  now  kept  with  amazing  fervour,  and  made  the 
occasion  of  yearly  banquets  and  rejoicings,  came  most 
inopportunely  on  the  twenty-third  of  August.  Our 
own  national  holiday  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in  the 
way  of  burning  heat;  and  a  ball  on  the  fifteenth  of 
July  must  have  been  but  a  doubtful  pleasure.  Per- 
haps the  people  who  enjoyed  it  most  were  the  unbid- 
den guests;  for  M.  de  Luzerne,  mindful  of  the  charms 
of  publicity  as  exemplified  in  the  French  court,  had 
thrown  down  the  brick  walls  which  encircled  his 
garden,  so  that  the  populace  could  enjoy  the  brilliant 
scene,  and  some  ten  thousand  spectators  availed  them- 
selves cheerfully  of  the  privilege.  General  Washing- 
ton, Count  Rochambeau,  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux, 
Robert  Morris,  Dickinson,  Mifflin,  and  a  host  of  other 
distinguished  men  were  there  to  be  stared  at ;  while 
an  Indian  chief  or  two  lent  variety  and  picturesque- 
ness  to  the  scene.  A  most  unique  feature  of  the 


RECONSTRUCTION  263 

entertainment  was  an  apartment  fitted  up  by  the 
thoughtful  host  for  the  reception  of  those  Quaker 
ladies  whose  principles  would  not  permit  them  to  join 
in  the  gayety;  but  who  watched  the  dancers  through 
a  gauze  curtain, — themselves  unseen, — just  as  the 
Moslem  women  of  Cairo  look  down  through  the  lat- 
ticed screens  of  their  opera  boxes  upon  the  singers  on 
the  stage,  or,  it  may  be,  upon  their  husbands  sitting 
with  fair-haired  English  girls,  at  whose  feet  lie  all  the 
forbidden  pleasures  of  the  world. 

The  treaty  of  peace  concluded  in  Paris  was  finally 
signed  at  Versailles,  on  the  third  of  September,  1783 ; 
Franklin,  John  Adams,  and  John  Jay  acting  as  our 
representatives.  The  independence  of  the  States,  of 
such,  at  least,  as  lay  between  the  Atlantic  coast  and  the 
Mississippi  River,  was  recognized  by  England;  the  Eng- 
lish troops  sailed  from  New  York  on  the  twenty-fifth 
of  November,  and  General  Washington,  resigning  his 
commission,  went  blithely  to  spend  his  Christmas  at 
Mount  Vernon. 

Philadelphia  had  not  lacked  occupation  or  excite- 
ment during  these  last  months  of  uncertainty,  for  to 
the  fierce  quarrels  of  her  politicians  had  been  added 
the  riotous  behaviour  of  the  soldiers,  who  fancied  them- 
selves imperious  legions  ready  to  terrorize  a  second 
Rome.  The  city  had  borne  upon  her  shoulders  the 
heaviest  burdens  and  responsibilities  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary war.  As  the  birthplace  of  the  infant  nation, 


264  PHILADELPHIA 

as  the  centre  of  interest,  and  the  scene  of  the  most 
important  movements  and  events,  she  had  been 
weighted  with  obligations  which  she  had  striven  hard 
to  fulfil,  though  rent  with  wounds,  and  shamed  by 
the  violence  of  her  sons.  Now  that  peace  was  as- 
sured, she  drew  a  great  breath  of  joyous  relief,  and 
prepared  to  turn  her  attention  to  her  long  neglected 
industries  and  commerce.  It  was  necessary  also  to 
do  justice  to  the  college  she  had  so  wantonly  injured, 
to  restore  the  rights  of  citizenship  to  many  who  had 
been  unwarrantably  disenfranchised,  to  satisfy  her 
public  creditors,  and  to  reestablish  that  sound  finan- 
cial basis  which  the  Continental  currency  had  hope- 
lessly destroyed. 

In  none  of  these  laudable  ambitions  was  she  des- 
tined to  immediate  success.  The  ancient  charter  of  the 
college  was  given  back,  but  vitality  and  the  spirit  of 
scholarship  would  not  return  at  the  Assembly's  per- 
suasive call.  The  rival  university  still  struggled  hard 
for  precedence,  albeit  there  were  many  in  her  faculty, 
who,  if  we  may  trust  the  biting  sarcasm  of  Dr.  Rush, 
"  knew  not  whether  Cicero  plead  in  Latin  or  in  Greek, 
or  whether  Horace  was  a  Roman  or  a  Scotchman." 
The  Whigs  still  clamoured  vehemently  against  any 
concessions  to  the  Tories,  and  succeeded  for  years  in 
keeping  alive  a  purposeless  spirit  of  hostility.  The 
creditors  were  left  to  mourn  their  unwise  liberality; 
and  the  fierce  attack  of  the  Constitutionalists,  under 


RECONSTRUCTION  265 

Reed,  upon  the  Bank  of  North  America,  proves  that 
party  spirit  was  still  strong  enough,  and  bitter  enough, 
to  play  havoc  with  matters  of  finance.  Philadelphia's 
politicians  were  in  the  habit  of  regarding  the  charter 
granted  to  an  institution  very  much  as  a  mother  re- 
gards the  toy  given  to  a  child,  —  as  something  to  be 
taken  away,  placed  on  a  shelf  out  of  reach,  and  re- 
turned again,  according  to  the  caprice  of  the  donor,  or 
the  amiability  of  the  recipient.  This  is  not  a  method 
calculated  to  produce  confidence  and  security  in  the 
public  mind;  it  is  difficult  to  lay  strong  foundations 
on  the  shifting  sands  of  partisanship;  and,  had  the 
bank  not  been  chartered  by  Congress  as  well  as  by 
the  Assembly,  it  must  inevitably  have  been  destroyed, 
and  the  splendid  efforts  of  Robert  Morris  to  remedy 
the  financial  weakness  of  the  country  would  have  been, 
to  our  lasting  shame,  frustrated  by  political  animosity. 
After  Washington,  and  after  Franklin,  the  man  to 
whom  the  nation  owed  its  heaviest  debt,  its  deepest 
gratitude,  was  Morris.  Born  in  England,  and  brought 
as  a  child  to  Philadelphia,  he  made  his  own  way  by 
sheer  force  of  intelligence,  without  the  help  of  a  single 
outstretched  hand.  At  thirteen,  he  was  sweeping  the 
floors  of  a  counting-house ;  at  thirty,  he  was  a  partner 
in  the  great  mercantile  firm  of  the  Willings,  and  begin- 
ning to  take  an  active  part  in  the  keen  interests  and 
anxieties  of  public  life.  Rich,  hospitable,  popular,  with 
a  sound  understanding  and  a  complication-proof  mind, 


266  PHILADELPHIA 

he  gave  to  the  Continental  Congress,  during  the  three 
years  in  which  he  sat  as  delegate,  such  efficient  aid  that 
every  emergency  added  to  the  burdens  that  he  bore. 
His  personal  credit  was  vast,  his  generosity  knew  no 
bounds,  his  readiness  of  resource  found  a  way  to  extri- 
cate his  allies  from  every  fresh  dilemma.  He  it  was 
who  furnished  Washington  with  artillery  and  ammuni- 
tion when  the  treasury  was  exhausted.  He  it  was  who 
borrowed  on  his  own  promissory  notes  over  a  million  of 
dollars,  with  which  to  buy  necessary  food  and  clothing 
for  the  army  at  the  most  critical  period  of  the  war.  He 
it  was  who  struggled,  almost  single-handed,  for  the 
restoration  of  specie,  and  the  re  establishment  of  our 
public  credit.  There  is  the  ring  of  prophetic  wisdom  in 
his  speeches,  deploring  earnestly  as  he  did  the  uneasy 
fluctuations  of  a  government  torn  by  conflicting  inter- 
ests, and  "changing  its  measures  by  the  breath  of 
democracy." 

When  the  return  of  peace  gave  us  leisure  to  under- 
stand our  desperate  condition ;  when  the  Continental 
currency  had  ceased  to  circulate,  and  there  was  no  hard 
money  to  take  its  place ;  when  the  public  coffers  were 
empty,  and  the  interest  on  the  public  debts  unpaid, 
—  then  Congress  turned  to  Morris  as  the  only  man 
who  could  be  of  any  help  in  times  so  sadly  out  of 
joint.  The  eminently  undesirable  post  of  Superinten- 
dent of  Finances  was  offered  to  him ;  and,  with  unflinch- 
ing courage,  he  set  about  the  difficult  labour  of  bringing 


RECONSTRUCTION  267 

order  out  of  chaos.  Face  to  face  with  bankruptcy 
and  ruin,  he  went  steadily  to  his  appointed  task,  sparing 
neither  himself  nor  his  fortune,  begrudging  no  toil  and 
no  sacrifice  in  his  country's  cause.  The  arduous  nature 
of  his  duties,  and  the  heavy  responsibilities  they  in- 
volved, broke  down  his  health  in  three  years,  so  that  he 
was  unable  to  continue  in  office ;  but  the  work  which 
that  great  financier,  Alexander  Hamilton,  brought  to 
a  successful  issue,  was  begun  by  Robert  Morris  and 
his  able  assistant,  Gouverneur  Morris, — founder  of  our 
system  of  national  coinage,  —  when  they  strove  to  re- 
store to  the  States  some  measure  of  prosperity  and 
credit. 

Pennsylvania  recognized  the  obligation  which  rested 
upon  her  to  indemnify  the  Penns  for  the  loss  of  their 
quit-rents,  and  of  the  proprietary  lands  which  had  been 
confiscated  during  the  Revolutionary  war.  It  was  im- 
possible, or  at  least  it  was  impracticable,  to  fully  com- 
pensate them  for  such  vast  estates.  Indeed,  the  modest 
sum  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  pounds  which 
the  Assembly  voted  for  this  purpose,  did  not  cover  more 
than  a  tenth  of  their  forfeiture.  But  the  manors  and 
some  property  of  no  great  value,  which  had  been  settled 
on  the  children  of  the  Founder,  remained  in  the  posses- 
sion of  his  great-grandsons,  and  the  English  govern- 
ment granted  them  annuities  amounting  to  four  thousand 
pounds.  Mr.  Sydney  Fisher  tells  us  that,  down  to  the 
present  day,  rents  from  the  most  closely  populated  parts 


268  PHILADELPHIA 

of  Philadelphia  go  over  the  sea  to  the  descendants  of 
William  Penn,  who  have  no  other  connection  with,  no 
other  interest  in,  the  city  of  his  heart  and  hopes. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  after  Congress  had  been 
frightened  away  by  the  riotous  soldiery,  taking  refuge 
in  Princeton  before  migrating  to  New  York,  Philadel- 
phia returned  in  some  measure  to  her  old  sobriety  and 
decorum.  It  is  true  that  the  spirit  of  reckless  specula- 
tion still  ran  wild,  and  that  many  of  her  citizens  had 
not  yet  exhausted  the  delights  of  living  beyond  their 
means.  General  Lee,  as  we  know,  described  her  as  a 
place  of  amusement  and  debauch,  by  which  he  probably 
had  in  mind  the  poor  little  "  Academy  of  Polite  Science," 
with  its  "  moral  dialogues,"  and  transparencies.  "  No 
other  city,"  says  Mr.  MacMaster,  "  was  so  rich,  so  extrav- 
agant, so  fashionable."  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  plain 
that  foreigners  thought  her  amazingly  discreet,  and 
sometimes  just  a  trifle  dull.  The  Chevalier  de  Beau- 
jour,  for  example,  found  little  to  amuse  him  in  her 
boasted  gayety,  little  to  please  him  in  her  boasted 
charms.  "  Philadelphia,"  he  wrote,  "  is  cut,  like  a  chess- 
board, at  right  angles.  All  the  streets  and  houses  re- 
semble each  other,  and  nothing  is  so  gloomy  as  this 
uniformity,  unless  it  be  the  sadness  of  the  inhabitants, 
the  greater  part  of  whom  are  of  Quaker  or  Puritan 
descent." 

Brissot  de  Warville,  who  came  over  the  seas — like 
so  many  modern  French  journalists  —  with  the  avowed 


RECONSTRUCTION  269 

intention  of  collecting  "  copy,"  considered  Philadelphia 
to  be  altogether  admirable,  but  very  far  from  gay.  "  The 
men  are  grave,"  he  said,  "  the  women  serious.  There 
are  no  finical  airs  to  be  found  here,  no  libertine  wives, 
no  coffee-houses,  no  agreeable  walks."  This  is  carry- 
ing criticism  too  far.  Coffee-houses  there  were,  and 
walks  in  plenty,  agreeable  enough,  though  not  pro- 
foundly interesting  to  the  eager  young  Frenchman  who, 
although  disposed  as  Washington  asserted,  "  to  receive 
favourable  impressions  of  America,"  was  naturally  de- 
pressed and  daunted  by  its  painful  dissimilarity  to 
France. 

Perhaps  the  truest  verdicts  are  to  be  found  a  little 
nearer  home.  The  vivacious  Miss  Franks,  while  sadly 
acknowledging  that  the  women  of  New  York  were 
handsomer  than  the  women  of  Philadelphia,  sighed 
vainly  in  her  exile  for  the  freedom  and  ease,  the  wit 
and  grace,  which  lent  gayety  to  the  drawing-rooms  of 
the  Chews,  and  Oswalds,  and  Aliens.  Miss  Vining,  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  and  admired  of  Philadelphia's 
daughters,  admitted,  in  a  letter  to  Governor  Dickinson, 
that  the  town  had  grown  strangely  quiet  since  the  flight 
of  Congress  ;  but  added  proudly,  "  You  know  that  here 
alone  can  be  found  a  truly  intellectual  and  refined 
society,  such  as  one  naturally  expects  in  the  capital  of 
any  country." 

In  truth,  the  city  was  occupied  with  matters  of  such 
serious  moment,  that  she  might  be  pardoned  for  not 


270  PHILADELPHIA 

always  finding  the  leisure  to  be  gay.  The  time  had 
now  arrived  when,  to  quote  Washington's  very  moderate 
language,  success  in  arms  had  given  the  United  States 
"  the  opportunity  to  become  a  respectable  nation."  The 
framing  of  a  constitution  was  a  supreme  necessity,  and 
in  May,  1787,  the  delegates  chosen  for  this  Herculean 
task  assembled  in  Philadelphia,  and  went  immediately 
to  work.  Washington  was  elected  to  preside  over  the 
convention,  which  debated  within  closed  doors  for  four 
months.  Its  meeting-place  was  the  old  State  House ; 
and  the  hall  which  had  first  echoed  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  now  rang  with  the  earnest  eloquence  of 
men  whose  work  it  was  to  make  this  independence  worth 
preserving,  and  upon  the  success  of  whose  measures 
depended  the  future  welfare  of  their  land.  The  duty 
assigned  them  was  the  moulding  of  thirteen  provinces, 
widely  separated,  sparsely  peopled,  wholly  dissimilar, 
into  a  united  and  "  respectable  nation."  It  was  fitting 
that  the  venerable  walls  which  had  witnessed  the  birth 
of  liberty  should  lend  their  hallowed  associations  and 
traditions  to  the  sincere  efforts  of  inexperienced  states- 
men, who  strove  to  complete  the  work  begun  by  their 
predecessors  in  1776. 

By  September  the  National  Constitution,  under  which 
we  now  live,  was  framed,  and  submitted  for  ratification 
to  the  States,  which,  one  by  one,  consented  to  adopt  it, 
though  never  without  a  sharp  struggle,  and  a  bitter 
protest  from  the  disaffected,  —  natural  enough,  when  so 


RECONSTR  UCTION 


271 


many  conflicting  interests  were  forced  into  an  uneasy 
alliance.     Pennsylvania,   having   given   her   adherence 


THE   OLD    STATE   HOUSE/ 


with  unwonted  promptness,  watched  these  struggles 
impatiently;  and  when  ten  out  of  the  thirteen  States 
had  consented  to  the  inevitable,  Philadelphia  prepared 


272  PHILADELPHIA 

to  celebrate  their  acquiescence  with  a  grand  Federal 
procession  on  the  fourth  of  July,  1788.  It  was  an  in- 
dustrial rather  than  a  military  parade,  the  parent  of 
many  more  to  follow,  and  it  could  hardly  have  been  a 
very  gay  or  brilliant  affair ;  though  in  a  lofty  car  — 
shaped  like  an  eagle,  and  representing  the  triumphant 
Constitution  —  sat  Judge  Atlee,  Judge  Rush  and  Chief 
Justice  McKean,  clad  in  their  official  robes,  and  making 
up  in  splendour  what  they  lacked  in  comfort  and  safety. 
All  the  trades  and  all  the  industries  were  amply  repre- 
sented. Mr.  Richard  Willing,  dressed  as  a  farmer, 
guided  a  plough  drawn  by  four  oxen,  —  a  pleasant  sight 
to  see,  —  and  Mr.  Charles  Willing,  in  the  character  of  a 
ploughboy,  walked  by  the  oxen's  side.  A  ship  of  state 
riding  proudly  on  a  canvas  sea,  with  a  gallant  crew,  and 
four  pretty  little  boys  for  midshipmen,  was  dragged 
through  the  streets  on  a  float ;  patriotic  addresses  were 
delivered  without  stint ;  and  an  ode,  admirable  in  senti- 
ment if  not  in  execution,  was  written  for  the  occasion 
by  Francis  Hopkinson,  and  attributed,  on  general  prin- 
ciples, to  Franklin.  Copies  of  this  ode  were  scattered 
among  the  crowd,  and  sent  by  carrier  pigeons  to  different 
parts  of  Pennsylvania.  The  bells  of  Christ  Church  rang 
all  day  long,  the  ships  along  the  river  front  were  gayly 
decorated,  bonfires  blazed  merrily  at  night,  and  a  grand 
supper  was  eaten  at  Bush  Hill  in  honour  of  the  accepted 
Constitution.  It  was  emphatically  a  celebration  by  the 
people,  who  understood  clearly  what  they  were  celebrat- 


RECONSTRUCTION  273 

ing,  and  its  most  pleasing  characteristic  was  sincerity. 
"  Every  countenance,"  says  a  contemporary  writer, 
"  wore  an  air  of  dignity  as  well  as  of  delight.  Every 
tradesman's  boy  in  the  procession  seemed  to  consider 
himself  as  a  principle  in  the  business." 

So  keen  was  the  general  enthusiasm  that  the  word 
"Federal,"  which  stood  for  the  party  of  success, 
became  popular  enough  for  universal  misapplication. 
Federal  stables  were  made  ready  for  gentlemen's 
horses,  Federal  hats  were  sold  in  the  shops,  Federal 
punch  was  ladled  out  liberally  in  taverns,  and  an  enter- 
prising dancing-master,  quick  to  glean  profit  out  of 
patriotism,  secured  many  pupils  by  promising  to  teach 
a  Federal  minuet.  Pennsylvania  rightly  considered 
that  this  was  a  favourable  moment  to  rid  herself  of 
the  cumbrous  and  bungling  laws  —  the  work  of 
Rittenhouse  and  Franklin  —  under  which  she  had 
struggled  to  live  since  1776.  The  Anti-Constitution- 
alists, the  party  of  moderation,  now  ruled  the  city  and 
the  State.  The  voices  of  such  men  as  Benjamin  Rush, 
John  Cadwalader,  Thomas  Mifflin  and  Robert  Morris 
were  listened  to  with  some  degree  of  deference,  and 
they  united  in  urging  the  necessity  for  a  more  practical 
and  reasonable  form  of  local  government.  A  conven- 
tion was  summoned,  and  a  new  State  Constitution, 
bearing  a  general  resemblance  to  the  National  Con- 
stitution, was  framed  in  1790.  Philadelphia  was  re- 
incorporated,  and  even  her  old  armorial  bearings  were 


274  PHILADELPHIA 

altered,  and  made  emblematic  of  the  progress  and 
prosperity  which  it  was  ardently  hoped  lay  waiting 
for  her  grasp. 

On  the  thirtieth  of  April,  1789,  Washington  was 
inaugurated,  and  the  United  States  possessed  at  last  a 
settled  government  and  a  visible  head.  When  the  Presi- 
dent passed  through  Philadelphia,  on  his  way  to  New 
York,  he  was  received  with  joyous  and  disconcerting  en- 
thusiasm. Triumphal  arches  were  raised  in  the  streets, 
the  houses  were  hung  with  flags,  soldiers  and  citizens 
accompanied  him  at  every  step,  and  young  girls  strewed 
flowers  along  his  path.  Perhaps  the  most  severely  try- 
ing moment  of  all  was  at  Gray's  Ferry,  where  a  crown 
of  laurel  hung  dangling  from  an  arch,  under  which 
he  was  doomed  to  ride.  A  little  boy,  robed  in  white 
and  garlanded  with  flowers,  held  a  string  attached 
to  this  laurel  wreath,  and,  at  the  critical  moment 
when  the  hero  passed  beneath,  it  was  lowered  precipi- 
tately "upon  his  brow,"  —  he  having  presumably 
taken  off  his  hat  for  its  accommodation,  —  while  the 
multitude  shouted  itself  hoarse  with  delight.  Such 
are  the  penalties  of  greatness,  and  the  settled  gravity 
of  Washington's  demeanour  permitted  no  one  to  know 
how  much  or  how  little  he  suffered  upon  these  occa- 
sions. He  was  at  all  times  fully  alive  to  the  dignity 
of  his  position,  and  took  an  open  interest  in  the  con- 
troversy which  raged  so  hotly  anent  a  proper  title 
for  the  President.  Congress  and  the  Senate  were 


RECONSTRUCTION  275 

equally  averse  to  granting  him  any ;  but  the  sentiment 
of  Philadelphia  was  strongly  in  favour  of  some  good 
high-sounding  phrase,  and  Chief  Justice  McKean 
urged  "Serene  Highness,"  as  the  most  elegant  and 
appropriate  that  could  be  chosen.  Washington,  it 
is  said,  fancied  the  title  of  the  Stadtholder,  — "  High 
Mightiness," — and  was  deeply  offended  at  General 
Muhlenberg  for  his  wanton  jest  on  the  subject,  when 
asked  for  a  serious  opinion. 

It  was  no  easy  task  at  this  time  to  steer  safely 
between  the  rival  claims  of  aristocracy  and  democracy ; 
to  satisfy  at  once  the  demands  of  what  has  been  called 
"  The  Republican  Court/'  and  the  demands  of  a  most 
uncourtly  public,  which  voiced  its  sentiments  shrilly. 
John  Adams  had  already  been  abused  with  fervour  for 
using  the  obnoxious  word  "well-born,"  when  speaking 
of  certain  prominent  citizens.  All  men,  he  was  re- 
minded, are  equally  well-born,  and  it  was  not  for 
him  to  draw  distinctions  between  classes.  When 
Thomas  Jefferson  returned  from  France,  he  had  ac- 
quired a  not  unpardonable  weakness  for  fine  clothes, 
and  appeared,  so  Mrs.  Deborah  Logan  tells  us,  in  "a 
suit  of  silk,  ruffles,  and  an  elegant  topaz  ring."  This 
gave  offence,  and  was  held  to  be  hardly  consistent 
with  republican  simplicity;  so  he  obligingly  adopted  a 
plainer  costume,  and  was  immediately  and  bitterly  re- 
proached "with  going  to  the  other  extreme,  as  a  bait 
for  popularity."  People  who  served  the  public  were 


276  PHILADELPHIA 

beginning  to  realize  how  very  hard  the  public  was  to 
please. 

The  death  of  Benjamin  Franklin  in  1790  severed 
the  last  great  link  between  colonial  Philadelphia  and 
the  arrogant,  uneasy  city,  struggling  to  adjust  herself 
to  new  and  necessary  conditions.  "  For  my  personal 
ease,"  he  wrote  sadly  to  Washington  during  his  long 
illness,  "I  should  have  died  two  years  ago."  To  the 
very  close  of  his  life  there  was  work  for  him  to  do, 
but  his  influence  and  popularity  waned  with  his  wan- 
ing powers.  Mrs.  Logan,  who  sincerely  admired  and 
reverenced  him,  and  who  was  generous  enough  to 
forgive  his  wanton  attack  on  the  memory  of  that  fine 
and  faithful  public  servant,  James  Logan,  tells  us  that 
even  his  preeminence  could  not  escape  depreciation 
amid  the  rush  of  new  events,  and  the  conflict  of  war- 
ring powers. 

"I  have  often  thought,"  she  writes,  "that  Dr. 
Franklin  must  have  sensibly  felt  the  difference  be- 
tween the  e*clat  which  he  enjoyed  in  France,  and  the 
reception  he  met  with  upon  his  final  return  to  his 
native  country.  The  elements  of  two  parties  were 
then  fermenting  themselves  into  the  form  which  they 
afterwards  assumed.  The  mass  of  Pennsylvania  was, 
as  it  has  ever  since  been,  decidedly  democratic ;  but 
there  was  a  contrary  spirit  then  dominant,  and  thinly 
diffused  over  the  surface  of  society,  which  rejected 
the  philosopher  because  it  thought  he  was  too  much 


RECONSTRUCTION  277 

of  that  stamp.  The  first  Constitution  of  our  State 
after  the  Revolution,  which,  was  his  work,  though 
adopted  by  the  great  body  of  the  people,  was  dis- 
liked;"— small  wonder!  —  "and  I  well  remember  the 
remark  of  a  Fool,  though  a  fashionable  party  man, 
at  the  time,  that  it  was  by  no  means  '  fashionable ' 
to  visit  Franklin." 

And  this  in  little  Philadelphia,  which  had  been 
patted  and  moulded  into  shape  by  his  tireless  intelli- 
gence and  activity!  It  was  not  for  her  to  play  the 
part  of  critic  where  there  was  much  to  criticise,  nor 
to  reject  too  sharply  that  spirit  of  utility  which,  as 
Sainte-Beuve  admits,  was  Franklin's  measure  for  all 
things,  and  which,  its  work  once  finished,  has  no 
further  message  for  the  restless  generations  to  come. 
The  city  he  served  should  have  even  now  a  keener 
recollection  of  his  services.  The  city  he  loved  should 
have  now  a  more  generous  affection  for  his  name. 
When  he  died,  she  awoke,  indeed,  to  a  transient  glow 
of  gratitude  and  reverence.  Twenty  thousand  people 
followed  him  to  his  grave  in  the  yard  of  Christ 
Church,  where  the  plain  stone  that  bears  the  inscrip- 
tion, "Benjamin  and  Deborah  Franklin.  1790."  is 
visible  to  all  who  pass  in  the  noisy  street  outside. 
The  oration  preached  some  time  afterwards  by  Provost 
Smith  was  as  laudatory  and  as  emotional  as  those 
pronounced  by  Mirabeau  before  T Assemble  Nationale, 
by  Condorcet  before  1' Academic  des  Sciences,  and  by 


278 


PHILADELPHIA 


Fauchet  before  the  Commune  of  Paris.  Congress  wore 
mourning  badges  for  a  month,  the  French  Assembly 
for  three  whole  days.  What  more  could  be  asked  in 
return  for  a  lifetime  of  labour?  What  more  could 


f  •)      A   v^-:r:v.; 
J>i^<"  )0  .f-  <,V>:v 


FRANKLIN'S  GRAVE 

be  given  by  the  world  to  the  memory  of  a  man  who 
had  lived  long  enough  to  finish  his  work,  and  whose 
death  at  eighty-four  left  no  tragic  sense  of  incom- 
pleteness which  could  be  recognized  as  a  personal  loss, 
and  as  such  sincerely  deplored? 


CHAPTER   XVI 

PHILADELPHIA   REGNANT 

TTTITH  the  return  of  Congress  to  Philadelphia,  a 
new  life  of  fleeting  gayety  and  extravagance 
came  to  the  Quaker  City.  Robert  Morris  was  held 
to  be  so  largely  responsible  for  this  return,  that  the 
caricatures  of  the  day  represent  him  as  carrying  the 
congressmen  and  senators  away  from  New  York  on 
his  shoulders.  Many  of  them  were  doubtless  very 
unwilling  to  go,  and  deep  are  the  murmurs  which 
have  come  down  to  us  in  the  letters  of  discontented 
officials  at  the  cost  of  living  in  Philadelphia,  and  at 
the  irritating  complacency  of  Philadelphians.  "The 
city  is  large  and  elegant,"  writes  Oliver  Wolcott  to 
his  wife,  "  but  it  did  not  strike  me  with  the  astonish- 
ment which  the  citizens  predicted.  Like  the  rest  of 
mankind,  they  judge  favourably  of  their  own  place 
of  residence,  and  of  themselves,  and  their  representa- 
tions are  to  be  admitted  with  some  deduction."  A 
few  months  later,  he  expresses  an  irritation  natural 
enough  in  a  man  from  whom  too  many  complimen- 
tary speeches  have  been  wrung.  "  The  people  of  this 

279 


280  PHILADELPHIA 

State,"  he  complains,  "are  very  proud  of  their  city, 
their  wealth,  and  their  supposed  knowledge.  I  have 
seen  many  of  their  principal  men,  and  discover  noth- 
ing that  tempts  me  to  idolatry." 

As  a  rule,  women  loved  Philadelphia,  and  the 
charm  of  its  social  life,  and  paid  scant  heed  to  the 
lamentations  of  their  husbands  or  fathers.  Mrs. 
Adams,  indeed,  found  Bush  Hill,  which  had  no 
bush  nor  scrub  upon  it,  a  somewhat  inconvenient  and 
lonely  neighbourhood,  and  vehemently  objected  to 
the  high  prices  demanded  for  all  things  needful. 
44  One  would  suppose,"  writes  the  Vice-President's 
very  practical  wife,  "  that  the  people  thought  Mex- 
ico before  them,  and  fancied  the  Congress  to  be 
its  possessors."  Even  Washington  was  not  without 
concern  at  the  general  extravagance,  at  the  heavy 
house-rent  he  was  compelled  to  pay,  and  at  the  ever- 
increasing  cost  of  hospitality.  His  letters  at  this  time 
are  studies  in  domestic  economy.  Apparently  the  cares 
of  housekeeping  were  added  to  the  cares  of  government, 
and  there  is  a  ring  of  anxiety  in  his  minute  directions 
anent  the  servants  and  their  wages,  in  his  determina- 
tion that  the  cook  shall  bake  his  cake,  and  that  the 
butler  shall  not  drink  his  wine,  and  in  the  complaint 
which  has  been  so  often  echoed  by  less  famous  men : 
"  It  is  unaccountable  to  me  how  other  families,  on 
twenty-five  hundred  or  three  thousand  dollars  a  year, 
should  be  enabled  to  entertain  more  company,  or  at 


PHILADELPHIA   REGNANT  281 

least  entertain  more  frequently  than  I  could  do  for 
twenty-five  thousand." 

It  does  not  appear  that  Mrs.  Washington  lifted 
these  vexatious  burdens  from  her  husband's  shoulders. 
We  know  that  she  was  both  dignified  and  affable  in 
society,  and  that,  being  by  nature  fond  of  gayety,  she 
never  quite  forgave  Philadelphia  for  having  robbed 
her  of  a  ball  in  the  gloomy  autumn  of  1775.  We 
know  also  that  she  had  her  old  family  plate  melted, 
and  "reproduced  in  more  elegant  and  harmonious 
forms,"  which  would  seem  to  indicate  a  lack  of  taste, 
common  enough  in  the  years  which  were  to  follow. 
But  when  there  was  need  of  new  curtains  for  the 
windows,  new  caps  for  the  footmen,  or  even  a  new 
mangle  for  the  kitchen,  the  President  was  compelled, 
or  thought  himself  compelled,  to  give  orders  concern- 
ing them;  though  the  mangle  —  it  was  really  a  sec- 
ond-hand mangle  bought  from  Mrs.  Robert  Morris  — 
puzzled  him  sorely.  "  I  think  that  is  what  it  is  called," 
he  writes  to  his  secretary,  Mr.  Lear,  who  was  trying  to 
put  the  house  in  order;  and  refers  him  for  further 
information  to  Mrs.  Morris,  "who  is  a  notable  lady 
in  family  arrangements." 

Washington's  formal  receptions  —  and  they  were 
very  formal  —  were  held  every  second  Tuesday,  be- 
tween three  and  four  in  the  afternoon,  his  dining-room 
being  turned  into  a  reception  hall  by  the  simple  pro- 
cess of  carrying  out  the  chairs.  There  was  true 


282  PHILADELPHIA 

republican  simplicity,  dignified,  reserved,  austere,  in 
the  President's  mode  of  life,  and  in  his  attitude 
towards  the  public.  The  ardours  of  a  stump-speak- 
ing, hand-shaking,  joke-perpetrating  democracy  had 
not  then  warmed  the  country  into  an  easy  brotherhood, 
and  melted  away  the  barriers  between  the  head  of  a 
nation  and  its  subjects.  Washington  loved  his  jest 
as  well  as  lesser  men.  His  private  letters  are  full  of 
jocularities,  robust  rather  than  fastidious ;  and,  like 
Pope  and  Byron,  he  was  much  in  the  habit  of  repeating 
his  good  things,  word  by  word,  to  his  different  corre- 
spondents. But  though  he  had  probably  never  in  his 
life  read  a  line  of  Epictetus,  —  no  man  deplored  more 
keenly  than  he  the  lack  of  early  education,  —  he  under- 
stood instinctively  that  "to  move  laughter  by  thy  dis- 
course is  a  slippery  descent  into  vulgarity,  and  always 
relaxes  thy  neighbour's  respect."  "His  manner  in 
public,"  says  William  Sullivan,  "  was  invariably  grave. 
It  was  sobriety  that  stopped  short  of  sadness."  Slow 
and  rather  cumbrous  in  his  motions,  and  with  an  in- 
distinct utterance,  —  a  blessed  barrier  to  oratory,  —  he 
knew  well  how  to  mingle  graciousness  with  dignity,  so 
that  none  who  were  admitted  to  his  presence  ever  felt 
arrogantly  repelled,  or  wholly  at  their  ease. 

It  is  wonderful  how  much  can  be  accomplished  by 
simple  propriety  of  demeanour.  The  letters  of  both 
Americans  and  foreigners  teem  with  animated  and 
reverential  descriptions  of  this  republican  ruler.  Mr. 


PHILADELPHIA  REGNANT  283 

Richard  Rush  assures  us  that  when  he  stood  on  the 
steps  of  Congress  Hall,  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him 
"in  mute,  unutterable  admiration.  Not  a  word  was 
heard,  not  a  breath.  Palpitations  took  the  place  of 
sounds."  Mr.  Henry  Wansey,  who  crossed  the  seas 
to  visit  us  in  1794,  confesses  he  was  overwhelmed 
with  "  awe  and  veneration "  when  permitted  to  break- 
fast with  the  President;  though  "two  small  plates 
of  sliced  tongue,  dry  toast,  bread  and  butter,"  carried 
a  painful  sense  of  incompleteness  to  his  hearty  Eng- 
lish appetite,  and  he  lamented  in  a  carnal  spirit  the 
absence  of  broiled  fish.  Mr.  Thomas  Twining,  an 
Anglo-Indian,  who  spent  the  following  winter  in 
Philadelphia,  never  seems  to  know  which  he  admires 
the  most,  —  the  conversation  of  Mr.  John  Adams,  or 
the  silence  of  Washington.  He  is  rather  taken  back  — 
being  fresh  from  the  splendours  of  India  —  to  find 
the  latter  living  in  "a  small  brick  house  on  High 
Street,  next  door  to  a  hair-dresser " ;  but  he  admits 
with  delight  that  "  the  moment  when  Washington 
entered  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Washington  said  'The 
President ! '  made  an  impression  on  my  mind  which 
no  subsequent  years  can  efface." 

The  equipage  of  our  chief  magistrate  was  more 
imposing  than,  his  modest  mansion,  which  was  not 
small,  however,  but  the  roomiest  which  could  be 
found  for  him  in  the  city.  He  drove  abroad  in  a 
big  cream-coloured  coach,  globular  in  shape,  and  or- 


284 


PHILADELPHIA 


namented  in  the  French  style  with  scantily  draped 
cupids,  and  flowing  wreaths  of  flowers.  A  tall  German 
coachman,  "possessing  an  aquiline  nose,"  handled  the 
reins,  and  the  long-tailed  Virginia  bays  were  as  beauti- 
ful as  those  which  drew  the  virtuous  Pamela  to  her 
wedding  rites.  The  President  walked  about  town 


HOUSE.    GERMANTOWN 


with  no  nervous  apprehension  of  lowering  his  dignity, 
and  was  in  the  habit  of  strolling  every  day  at  noon 
to  set  his  watch  by  Clark's  standard  at  Front  and 
High  Streets,  gravely  saluting  the  porters  who  un- 
covered as  he  passed. 

According  to  Senator  Maclay,  the  presidential  din- 
ners were  painfully  solemn  and  serious  affairs ;  but 
Mrs.  Washington's  receptions  appear  to  have  given 


PHILADELPHIA   REGNANT  285 

universal  satisfaction.  The  ladies  who  attended  were, 
we  are  told,  "  elegantly,  if  not  superbly  dressed." 
Mrs.  Adams  notes  "the  dazzling  Mrs.  Bingham  and 
her  sisters,  the  Misses  Allen,  the  Misses  Chew,  and 
a  constellation  of  beauties,"  among  the  ordinary 
guests.  Miss  Sally  McKean,  with  sublime  effrontery, 
writes,  after  the  first  of  these  entertainments,  to  a 
friend  in  New  York,  —  poor  New  York,  still  smart- 
ing under  a  sense  of  loss: — "You  never  could  have 
had  such  a  drawing-room.  It  was  brilliant  beyond 
anything  you  can  imagine.  And  though  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  extravagance,  there  was  so  much  of 
Philadelphia  taste  in  everything,  that  it  must  have 
been  confessed  the  most  delightful  occasion  of  the 
kind  ever  known  in  this  country." 

The  gaj^ety  and  charm  of  the  Philadelphia  women, 
their  Paris  gowns,  and  lively  conversation,  form  the 
theme  of  universal  comment.  Mrs.  Adams,  indeed, 
though  well  pleased  with  so  much  friendly  hospi- 
tality, seems  a  trifle  bored  by  meeting  "  at  all  places 
nearly  the  same  company."  Her  daughter  admits 
that  the  women  of  Boston  were  more  highly  educated, 
but  finds  the  Philadelphians  easier  in  their  manners, 
more  gracious,  and  more  desirous  of  pleasing.  The 
Duke  de  Lauzun,  the  Marquis  -de  Chastellux,  and 
Count  Rochambeau  unite  in  praising  both  the  young 
girls  and  the  matrons,  though  wondering  a  little  at 
their  devotion  to  dress,  and  to  the  Paris  fashions. 


286  PHILADELPHIA 

The  Abb6  Robin  has  the  unkindness  to  say  that,  in 
the  absence  of  parks  and  promenades,  these  fail- 
daughters  of  Eve  went  to  church,  less  to  pray  than 
to  show  their  pretty  frocks ;  and  Brissot,  who  was 
nothing  if  not  serious,  laments  openly  that  this 
feminine  weakness  for  finery  extended  itself  to  the 
Quaker  women,  who  tried  in  many  ways  to  escape 
from  the  rigid  thraldom  of  the  Society.  "  These 
youthful  creatures,"  he  writes,  "  whom  nature  has 
so  well  endowed,  whose  charms  have  so  little  need 
of  art,  wear  the  finest  muslins  and  silks.  Oriental 
luxury  would  not  disdain  the  exquisite  textures  in 
which  they  take  delight."  "  Ribbons,"  observes  the 
astute  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld-Liancourt,  "please 
the  young  Quakeresses  as  well  as  others,  and  are  the 
great  enemies  of  the  sect."  Sometimes,  indeed,  the 
vanities  of  the  world  proved  too  strong  for  early 
principles,  and  fair  apostates,  like  Mrs.  Madison,  cast 
off  the  yoke  with  whole-hearted  impetuosity,  striv- 
ing to  compensate  themselves  for  the  enforced  seclu- 
sion of  girlhood  by  indulging  in  every  gayety  and 
dissipation. 

Frivolity  was  the  order  of  the  day.  In  vain 
would-be  economists  expressed  with  Oliver  Wolcott 
a  reasonable  hope  that  "  the  example  of  the  President 
and  his  family  will  render  parade  and  expense  im- 
proper and  disreputable."  No  such  pleasing  result 
ensued.  In  vain  the  more  conservative  Friends  pro- 


PHILADELPHIA  REGNANT  287 

tested  loudly  against  sinful  luxury,  and  a  prominent 
member  of  the  Society  refused  to  enter  the  house  of 
an  acquaintance,  because  a  carpet  was  spread  upon 
the  hall.  "  Better,"  he  said,  "  to  clothe  the  poor  than 
to  clothe  the  earth."  Reproaches  were  unheeded,  and 
the  careless  city  waxed  more  and  more  extravagant 
as  the  merry  months  ran  on.  If  husbands  and 
fathers  looked  grave,  feeling,  as  they  must  have 
felt,  the  unsoundness  of  this  apparent  prosperity, 
wives  and  daughters  listened  to  no  forebodings,  but 
made  hay  blithely  while  still  the  warm  sun  shone. 
Of  the  amusements  they  loved,  and  of  the  admira- 
tion they  excited,  none  of  them  seem  ever  to  have 
wearied.  "  The  young  women  of  Philadelphia," 
writes  the  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld-Liancourt,  "are 
accomplished  in  different  degrees,  but  beauty  is  com- 
mon to  all.  They  lack  the  ease  and  grace  of  French 
women,  but  they  are  charming,  and  have  singularly 
brilliant  complexions." 

The  acknowledged  leader  in  all  the  gayeties  of  these 
unwontedly  gay  winters  was  Mrs.  William  Bingham, 
of  whom  we  hear  so  much  in  contemporary  records. 
Beautiful,  rich,  pleasure-loving,  gentle  in  speech  and 
light  of  heart,  she  lent  a  vivacity  of  her  own  to  the 
limited  society  of  a  little  city,  where,  as  Mrs.  Adams 
said,  the  same  people  met  each  other  day  after  day, 
and  night  after  night.  Up  the  broad  marble  stairway, 
which  we  are  told  gave  "  a  truly  Roman  elegance  "  to 


288 


PHILADELPHIA 


her  spacious  home,  thronged  the  Willings,  the  Byrds, 
the  Powels,  the  Shippens,  the  McCalls,  the  Blackwells, 
the  Cadwaladers,  the  Chews  and  Oswalds,  many  of 
whom  were  —  in  true  Philadelphia  fashion  —  cousins, 
first,  second,  or  third,  of  their  hostess,  and  of  whom 
we  can  only  trust  she  did  not  weary  in  these  some- 
what monoto- 
nous entertain- 
ments. Mrs. 
Robert  Morris 
also  enjoyed  a 
distinguished 
position,  upheld 
by  her  husband's 
great  wealth,  his 
important  ser- 
vices to  the 
country,  and  his 
splendid  hospi- 
tality which 
knew  no  limit 
nor  restraint.  Washington,  whose  own  household  was 
conducted  simply  and  abstemiously,  notes  again  and 
again  in  his  diary  the  elegance  of  the  dinners  at 
which  he  was  a  guest.  Indeed,  his  constant  presence 
on  these  occasions  shows  how  rigidly  he  performed 
the  very  fatiguing  social  duties  which  he  deemed  his 
rank  demanded.  Nor  were  the  privileges  of  any  class 


TEA-ROOM   IN   MORRIS   HOUSE 


PHILADELPHIA  REGNANT  289 

of  people  ignored.  In  1792  the  Dancing  Assembly 
gave  a  grand  ball  in  honour  of  his  birthday.  A 
society  which  called  itself  the  New  Dancing  Assem- 
bly, and  which  was  largely  composed  of  tradespeople 
excluded  from  the  older  association,  determined  to 
celebrate  the  anniversary  in  the  same  fashion.  The 
President  attended  the  two  balls,  remained  for  the 
same  space  of  time  at  each,  and  at  each  proposed 
the  same  toast,  — "  The  State  of  Pennsylvania." 

In  curious  contrast  to  the  brilliancy  of  Philadelphia's 
social  life,  to  which  the  constant  presence  of  foreigners 
like  Chateaubriand,  the  Viscount  de  Noailles,  M.  Talley- 
rand and  the  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld  lent  interest 
and  distinction,  were  the  crudeness  of  her  literary  and 
artistic  developments,  the  badness  of  her  roads,  —  al- 
ways a  test  of  civilization,  —  and  the  unutterable  dis- 
comfort of  travel.  Men,  indeed,  still  read  the  robust 
English  classics  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  occasion- 
ally a  woman  who,  like  Elizabeth  Drinker,  possessed 
both  leisure  and  intelligence,  confessed  to  an  acquaint- 
ance with  Fielding.  But  scholarship  was  on  the  wane, 
carrying  with  it  all  real  appreciation  of  letters ;  and 
with  the  exception  of  Charles  Brockden  Brown,  whose 
novels  are  still  sometimes  talked  about  though  seldom 
read,  the  prose  and  verse  of  literary  Philadelphians 
were  for  many  years  equally  and  strikingly  inade- 
quate. Only  in  correspondence,  and  in  diaries  not 
meant  for  publication,  do  we  discern  that  intelli- 


290  PHILADELPHIA 

gence  and  acumen  which  promised  possibilities  for  the 
future. 

Portrait  painting  was  exceedingly  fashionable  in  all 
American  cities,  and  Washington  set  an  admirable 
example  by  being  painted  over  and  over  again,  —  as 
often,  though  not  so  well,  as  that  least  vain  of  mon- 
archs,  Philip  IV.  of  Spain.  Pennsylvania  sent  Ben- 
jamin West  to  England,  where,  like  Mrs.  Jarley,  he 
became  the  delight  of  the  royal  family,  the  nobility,  and 
gentry.  Naturally  he  stayed  amid  these  powerful  pa- 
trons; but  in  his  place  came  Robert  Pine,  Gilbert 
Stuart  of  Rhode  Island,  John  Trumbull  of  Connecti- 
cut, and  afterwards,  Thomas  Sully,  who  crossed  the 
sea  when  a  child  of  nine,  and  spent  most  of  his  life 
in  Philadelphia.  Charles  Wilson  Peale  was  born,  like 
West,  in  Pennsylvania.  He  expressed  his  reverence  for 
art  by  naming  his  six  children  Raphael,  Rembrandt, 
Vandyke,  Titian,  Rubens,  and  Angelica  Kaufmann.  It 
is  pleasant  to  record  that  two,  at  least,  out  of  the  six 
acted  on  their  father's  suggestion,  and  followed  in 
his  footsteps.  Peale  and  his  fellow  artists  were  kept 
hard  at  work  painting  Philadelphia's  judges  and  doc- 
tors, her  rich  merchants,  her  politicians,  and,  above  all, 
her  handsome  daughters,  as  lavish  apparently  with  their 
charms  as  were  their  English  great-grandmothers  in  the 
gay  days  of  the  second  Charles. 

Yet  was  the  Quaker  City  deeply  imbued  with  her  own 
conceptions  of  propriety,  and  not  without  her  own  stand,- 


PHILADELPHIA  REGNANT 


291 


ard  of  taste.  Her  women  might  unveil  their  bosoms  to 
the  careless  eyes  of  men ;  but  when  the  English  painter, 
Pine,  brought  over  the  ocean  a  plaster  cast  of  the  Venus 
de  Medici,  he  was  not  permitted  to  keep  it  in  his 
studio  where  it  could  be  generally 
seen.  The  bronze  statue  of  a  nymph 
holding  a  swan  upon  her  shoul- 
der, which  is  now  in  the  oldest 
corner  of  Fairmount  Park, 
was  originally  carved  in  wood 
by  Rush,  and  placed  in  Centre 
Square.  But  though  amply 
and  even  prodigally  draped, 
the  poor  thing's  clinging  pet- 
ticoats shocked  public  ^  ^ 
modesty,  and  she  was  *  » 
loudly  denounced 
as  indecorous,  and  *'—• 
unfit  for  the  open 


i_L 


'  A   NYMPH  HOLDING  A 

SWAN  " 


street.     Twenty   years 
later,  the  infant  Acad- 
emy of  the  Fine  Arts 
imported  a  number  of        ^^ 

casts,  copies  of  the  famous  statues  in  the  Louvre ;  and 
so  great  was  the  disedification  which  they  gave  that 
the  managers  were  obliged  to  set  apart  one  day  in  the 
week  for  female  visitors,  when  the  nude  figures  were 
swathed  from  head  to  feet  in  muslin  sheets. 


292  PHILADELPHIA 

As  for  the  difficulties  of  travel,  they  mattered  lit- 
tle to  people  who  habitually  stayed  at  home.  In  the 
early  days,  when  the  city  was  still  in  her  innocent 
childhood,  she  sought  no  easy  communication  with 
distant  towns.  Adventurous  spirits  from  time  to 
time  gratified  a  thirst  for  novelty,  or  were  summoned 
to  neighbouring  provinces  by  the  urgent  cares  of 
business.  Mrs.  Joseph  Shippen  journeyed  on  horse- 
back from  Boston  to  Philadelphia  in  1702,  with  her 
young  baby  lying  in  her  lap,  and  the  lodestar  which 
drew  her  along  this  weary  way  was  the  desire  to  see 
again  her  family  and  her  friends.  The  first  coach 
that  ran  between  Philadelphia  and  New  York  was 
started  in  1756,  and  took  three  whole  days  to  make 
the  trip.  When  a  swifter  conveyance  covered  the 
distance  in  two  days,  it  was  boastfully  christened  the 
Flying  Machine,  and  twenty  shillings  were  demanded 
for  a  seat.  By  1789  this  time  had  been  greatly  re- 
duced; and  the  Rev.  Jeremy  Belknap,  author  of  the 
"  History  of  New  Hampshire,"  gives  us  an  animated 
account  of  travelling  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia 
in  the  "New  Flying  Diligence,"  which  outsped  all 
competitors.  "Between  three  and  four  in  the  morn- 
ing," he  writes,  "we  set  off  in  the  stage,  rode  nine 
miles  to  Bergen  Neck,  and  then  crossed  a  ferry  which 
brought  us  to  Woodbridge.  Just  before  we  reached 
the  second  ferry  we  perceived  the  dawn  of  day,  and, 
when  we  were  two  miles  from  it,  the  sun  rose,  so  that 


PHILADELPHIA  REGNANT  293 

we  had  ridden  sixteen  miles  and  crossed  two  ferries 
before  sunrise,  besides  shifting  horses  twice.  The 
third  stage  brought  us  to  Brunswick,  where  we  break- 
fasted. We  here  crossed  the  Raritan  in  a  scow,  open 
at  both  ends  to  receive  and  discharge  the  carriage  with- 
out unharnessing  or  dismounting,  and  the  scow  was 
pulled  across  the  river  by  a  rope.  We  passed  through 
Princeton  about  noon,  and  got  to  Trenton  to  dinner ; 
then  passed  the  Delaware  in  another  scow  which  was 
navigated  only  by  setting  poles ;  drove  thirty  miles 
over  a  plain,  level  country  at  a  great  rate,  and  arrived 
in  Philadelphia  at  sunset." 

Brissot,  who  made  this  pleasant  trip  a  few  years  later, 
describes  the  diligence  as  "  a  kind  of  open  wagon,  hung 
with  double  curtains  of  leather  and  wool " ;  in  which 
jolting  vehicle,  he  perceived  the  principle  of  equality 
to  be  well  maintained.  "The  member  of  Congress 
rides  in  fraternal  fashion  beside  the  shoemaker  who 
elected  him." 

Other  cities,  however,  were  less  easy  of  access  than 
New  York.  Mr.  Thomas  Twining,  who  desired  to  go 
from  Philadelphia  to  Baltimore  in  1795,  found  that 
the  only  public  conveyance  was  the  mail  wagon, 
which,  for  the  accommodation  of  travellers,  held  four 
rough  benches,  without  lacks.  Under  these  benches 
the  luggage  was  stowed,  so  that  the  wretched  passen- 
gers, aching  all  over,  and  unable  to  gain  a  minute's 
rest,  could  not  even  thrust  their  feet  a  little  way  before 


294  PHILADELPHIA 

them.  Heavy  leather  curtains  were  kept  fastened 
down  the  whole  time,  and  no  glimpse  of  the  surrounding 
country  afforded  a  minute's  distraction  or  relief.  The 
roads  were  uncompromisingly  bad,  and  the  wagon 
jolted  heavily  over  ruts  and  stones.  Two  entire  days 
were  passed  in  this  misery.  At  the  midway  inn  where 
the  voyagers  spent  the  night,  they  were  all  packed  into 
a  single  garret  room,  called  up  the  second  morning 
at  two-thirty  A.M.,  and  sent  off  breakfastless  at  three. 
Mr.  Twining  appears  to  have  been  the  most  amiable 
Englishman  who  ever  visited  our  shores.  He  praises 
everything  in  Philadelphia,  from  his  very  select  board- 
ing-house —  "  a  private  house  for  the  reception  of  mem- 
bers of  Congress  "  —  to  "  the  most  esteemed  article  of 
an  American  breakfast,"  buckwheat  cakes.  Even  the 
monotonous  sameness  of  the  streets,  he  considers  per- 
plexing rather  than  disagreeable.  But  the  two  days 
in  the  mail  wagon  strained  even  his  good-humour, 
and  he  mildly  insinuates  in  his  diary  that  a  leather 
strap,  on  which  passengers  could  rest  their  backs,  would 
be  neither  difficult  nor  expensive  to  adjust,  and  would 
add  immeasurably  to  the  comfort  of  travellers.  It 
seems  a  moderate  demand. 


OLD  MARKET-PLACE 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TWO   FORMS   OP  FEVER 

French  Revolution,  which  followed  so  swiftly 
upon  our  own,  was  watched  in  the  United  States 
with  a  breathless  interest,  in  no  wise  lessened  by  the 
difficulty  of  obtaining  news.  Excitement,  which  is  now 
alternately  awakened  and  allayed  by  daily  cablegrams, 
each  contradicting  the  message  of  the  previous  morning, 
then  burned  with  a  steady  intensity.  The  birth  of  the 
French  Republic  was  hailed  with  joy,  and  its  baptism  in 
blood  was  passed  over  as  lightly  as  such  unpleasant  de- 
tails would  permit.  The  gratitude  which  our  country 
felt  for  the  assistance  France  had  given  us  in  our 
sorest  need,  disposed  the  mass  of  people  to  forgive  her 

295 


296  PHILADELPHIA 

the  excesses  which  were  committed  across  so  many 
miles  of  ocean.  Distance  softens  the  direst  horrors, 
and  enables  us  to  endure  with  tranquillity,  evils  too 
ghastly  for  a  near  acquaintance.  The  death  of  King 
Louis  sent,  indeed,  a  thrill  of  shame  and  sorrow  through 
thousands  of  hearts  that  had  not  wholly  forgotten  his 
ancient  friendship  for  the  colonies,  nor  the  times  when 
his  birthday  was  kept  as  a  civic  festival.  But  this  tem- 
porary revulsion  of  feeling  was,  in  turn,  overcome  by  a 
sudden  and  keen  enthusiasm  when  it  was  generally 
known  that  the  young  Republic,  as  brave  as  it  was 
cruel,  had  declared  war  against  England  and  Spain, 
and  that  Citizen  Genet  was  on  his  way  to  the  United 
States  to  demand  succour  and  support. 

The  satisfaction,  it  must  be  admitted,  was  confined 
wholly  to  the  people.  The  President  and  the  Congress 
felt  nothing  but  doubt,  perplexity  and  chagrin.  Genet 
landed  at  Charleston,  and  consumed  four  weeks  in  get- 
ting to  Philadelphia.  His  journey  was  like  a  royal 
progress,  impeded  at  every  step  by  public  and  flattering 
ovations,  well  calculated  to  turn  a  stronger  head.  By 
the  time  he  reached  his  destination,  he  was  naturally 
convinced  of  his  own  supreme  importance,  and  the 
reception  given  him  by  the  city  served  to  increase  rather 
than  to  lessen  this  delusion.  His  coming  was  heralded 
by  the  French  frigate,  V Ambuscade,  which,  on  the  second 
of  May,  sailed  up  the  river,  and  anchored  at  the  Market 
Street  wharf,  amid  the  wild  acclamations  of  the  crowd. 


TWO  FORMS   OF  FEVEE  297 

She  was  a  self-assertive  frigate,  leaving  no  one  in  doubt 
of  her  intentions.  A  liberty  cap  adorned  her  foremast, 
from  which  floated  a  pennon,  inscribed,  "  Enemies  of 
equality,  reform  or  tremble ! "  Her  mainmast  bore  a 
similar  legend:  "Freemen,  we  are  your  friends  and 
brothers;  "  and  her  mizzenmast  proclaimed  to  the  world  : 
"  We  are  armed  to  defend  the  rights  of  men."  She  fired 
a  salute  of  fifteen  guns,  and  was  answered  rapturously 
from  the  shore,  while  the  bells  of  Christ  Church  pealed 
out  their  shrill  and  joyous  welcome,  and  the  throngs 
along  the  river  front  shouted  their  hoarse  delight. 

Two  weeks  later,  Genet  arrived,  and  was  met  at 
Gray's  Ferry  by  a  vast  concourse  of  townspeople  who 
brought  him  triumphantly  into  the  city,  presented  him 
with  a  glowing '  address,  and  prepared  a  grand  banquet 
for  him  at  Oeller's  Tavern.  Among  his  ardent  friends 
and  partisans  were  Citizens  Dallas,  Rittenhouse,  Dupon- 
c.eau,  Charles  Biddle,  Thomas  Miffin  and  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson ;  for  it  is  to  be  observed  that  "  citizen "  was 
now  considered  the  only  title  fit  for  a  son  of  freedom. 
Mr.  Smith  and  Mr.  Brown  became  Citizen  Smith  and 
Citizen  Brown,  and  felt  themselves  much  altered  and 
purified  by  the  transformation. 

At  the  tavern  dinner,  vast  enthusiasm  was  displayed. 
Dupon^eau  read  a  French  ode,  which  might  have  been 
better  enjoyed  if  it  had  been  more  generally  under- 
stood. The  Marseillaise  was  sung  with  fervour,  and 
Genet  treated  the  company  to  a  "truly  patriotic  and 


298  PHILADELPHIA 

Republican  song,"  which  Mr.  MacMaster  quotes  entire, 
but  of  which  one  verse  will  suffice  to  show  the  merits. 

"  Should  France  from  her  lofty  station, 

From  the  throne  of  fair  Freedom  be  hurled, 
"Tis  done  with  every  other  nation, 
And  Liberty's  lost  to  the  world." 

After  this  poetic  outburst,  the  bonnet  rouge  was 
solemnly  placed  upon  the  head  of  every  guest,  beginning 
with  the  French  minister,  who  was  probably  the  only 
man  to  feel  at  ease  during  the  ceremony. 

In  sharp  contrast  to  all  this  popular  excitation  was 
the  cold  reception  given  by  Washington  to  the  unwel- 
come representative  of  the  new  Republic.  Genet,  who 
was  already  deeply  angered  by  the  proclamation  of 
neutrality,  felt  himself  outraged  by  the  President's  for- 
mal words  and  chilling  demeanour,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  medallion  of  Louis  XVI.  which  he  perceived  upon 
the  wall  of  the  drawing-room,  and  which  he  resented  as 
an  "insult"  to  his  nation.  His  demand  for  the  two 
millions  which  the  United  States  still  owed  to  France 
was  not  unreasonable,  for  the  money  was  sorely  needed ; 
but  Hamilton  reported  the  treasury  to  be  empty,  —  its 
chronic  state,  —  and  declared  that  to  anticipate  the  date 
fixed  for  the  payment  of  the  debt,  which  could  only  be 
done  by  an  act  of  Congress,  would  be  to  violate  the 
treaty  of  neutrality.  As  for  the  "fraternal  compact" 
which  the  envoy  hoped  to  establish  between  the  two 
countries,  nothing  could  have  been  less  desired  by  the 


TWO  FORMS   OF  FEVER  299 

President,  the  Congress,  the  shipping  merchants,  whose 
trade  with  England  was  at  stake,  or  the  conservative 
citizens  who  mistrusted,  not  without  reason,  the  methods 
and  morals  of  our  proposed  ally. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  mass  of  the  people  were  eager 
to  support  France  in  her  tremendous  struggle,  and  to 
them  Genet  made  an  open  appeal  for  sympathy.  The 
populace,  as  he  knew,  had  ruled  Paris,  and,  through 
Paris,  France.  Why  should  not  the  same  power  be 
absolute  in  the  United  States  ?  Moreover,  he  had  the 
sanction  of  the  National  G-azette,  the  organ  of  the  ex- 
treme Republicans,  and  the  mouthpiece  of  Mr.  Jefferson, 
which  habitually  censured  Washington  and  the  admin- 
istration, arid  spoke  writh  fervid  scorn  of  "  Mr.  Hamilton's 
myrmidons,"  by  which  it  meant  all  holders  of  bank-stock 
or  government  bonds.  To  the  people  accordingly  — 
sacred  depositaries  of  wisdom  and  understanding  — 
the  French  minister  turned  for  aid  ;  and  they  responded 
with  a  cordial  vehemence  as  pleasing  as  it  was  profitless. 
Revolutionary  societies,  in  imitation  of  the  Jacobin  clubs, 
were  founded  in  Philadelphia.  Bands  of  Genatines,  as 
they  were  called,  paraded  the  streets,  singing  "Ca  ira" 
when  sober  citizens  were  in  bed,  and  swearing  that  the 
United  States  should  be  forced  to  fight  Great  Britain. 
"Ten  thousand  men,"  wrote  John  Adams,  who  was 
seriously  alarmed  at  the  crisis,  "  were  in  the  streets  of 
Philadelphia  day  after  day,  threatening  to  drag  Wash 
ington  out  of  his  house,  and  effect  a  revolution  in  the 


300  PHILADELPHIA 

government,  or  compel  it  to  declare  in  favour  of  the 
French,  and  against  England." 

To  give  our  Quaker  town  a  still  more  lively  resem- 
blance to  unshackled  Paris,  women  and  children  took 
part  in  these  feverish  demonstrations.  Young  people 
of  both  sexes  thronged  the  highways,  all  wearing  tri- 
coloured  cockades,  and  singing  the  Marseillaise,  or  that 
lurid  chant, 

"  Dansons  la  Carmagnole, 
Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son, 
Dansons  la  Carmagnole, 
Vive  le  son  du  canon  !  " 

without  having  any  very  clear  conception,  owing  to  the 
general  ignorance  of  French,  of  just  what  the  words 
implied.  In  Girard  Street,  then  an  open  square,  un- 
adorned by  the  spacious  old  houses  and  quiet  gardens 
which  made  it  for  years  one  of  the  most  respectable  of 
thoroughfares,  a  liberty  pole  was  erected,  surmounted  by 
the  bonnet  rouge  ;  and  around  it  danced,  hand  in  hand, 
boys  of  twelve  and  decent  grey-haired  men,  all  shrieking 
revolutionary  songs,  and  all  mad  with  the  fierce  excite- 
ment of  the  hour.  Even  the  better  class  of  citizens  who 
favoured  the  cause  of  France  were  not  restrained  by 
taste  or  judgment  from  acts  of  coarse  brutality.  At  a 
dinner  presided  over  by  Governor  Mifnin,  a  roast  pig 
was  brought  in  to  personate  King  Louis,  and  its  head, 
severed  from  its  body,  was  carried  around  the  table, 
amid  triumphant  jeers,  and  cries  of  "  Tyrant !  Tyrant !  " 


TWO  FORMS   OF  FEVER  301 

A  Philadelphia  tavern  was  suffered  to  display  upon  its 
sign-board  a  revolting  picture  of  the  bloody  and  mutilated 
corpse  of  Marie  Antoinette.  What  wonder  that  Genet, 
reminded  at  every  turn  of  Paris  and  its  familiar  delights, 
should  have  deemed  his  cause  secure  ?  What  wonder 
that  he  grew  bolder  and  bolder  in  his  support  of  the 
French  privateers,  and  more  and  more  insolent  in  his 
tone  towards  the  President  and  the  administration? 
How  could  he  suppose  that  this  fever  would  fade  away 
as  swiftly  and  as  unreasonably  as  it  had  come?  A 
few  more  public  dinners,  a  few  more  speeches,  a  few 
more  songs  and  experiments  with  the  bonnet  rouge, — 
and  even  his  friends  wearied  somewhat  of  the  cause. 
Washington,  who  was  at  no  time  long-suffering  where 
the  dignity  of  his  position  was  at  stake,  demanded  and 
obtained  the  recall  of  a  minister  who  had  violated  every 
principle  of  diplomacy.  His  successor,  Citizen  Fauchet, 
arrived  in  February,  1794 ;  but  by  that  time  the  Reign 
of  Terror  was  nearing  its  end.  Genet  lingered  in  the 
United  States  until  summer,  and  then  the  death  of 
Robespierre  convinced  him  that  France  was  no  longer 
a  safe  abode  for  too  ardent  Jacobins.  He  decided  to 
remain  where  he  could  be  sure  of  keeping  his  head  upon 
his  shoulders ;  and,  selecting  a  home  in  New  York,  he 
made  many  friends,  and  won  for  himself  two  American 
wives  before  he  died  in  1834. 

Even    while    the    revolutionary    craze    was    at    its 
height,  French  Emigres,  fleeing  from  the   embraces   of 


302  PHILADELPHIA 

the  guillotine,  found  a  hospitable  retreat  in  Philadel- 
phia, bringing  with  them  gayety  and  grace  which 
lent  their  very  poverty  an  air  of  distinction,  and  made 
it  seem  a  different  thing  from  the  sordid  narrowness, 
the  troubled  reticence  of  Anglo-Saxon  penury.  When, 
a  few  years  later,  Louis  Philippe  sought  shelter  in  the 
same  quiet  haven,  he  lived  in  a  single  room  over  a 
barber's  shop.  Here  he  gave  one  night  a  little  dinner 
to  some  very  distinguished  guests,  and  apologized  with 
serene  good-humour  for  seating  half  of  his  visitors  on 
his  bed.  "I  have  myself  been  in  much  less  comfort- 
able places,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "and  without  the 
consolation  of  agreeable  company." 

In  August,  1793,  Philadelphia's  enthusiasms  and 
animosities,  her  joys  and  follies,  were  stifled  into  one 
common  fear  by  the  breaking  out  of  the  yellow  fever. 
Amid  the  terrible  scenes  that  ensued  no  one  had 
leisure  to  cherish  hysterical  sentiment ;  no  one  remem- 
bered to  say  "  Citizen  Brown  "  or  "  Citess  Robinson  " ; 
no  one  cared  whether  France  was  a  republic,  a  mon- 
archy, or  an  empire.  There  was  an  end  to  all  caper- 
ing about  liberty  poles,  for  Death  was  dancing  grimly 
in  the  desolate  streets,  and  he  shared  his  merriment 
with  none.  Through  the  whole  summer  the  disease 
had  been  raging  in  the  West  Indies,  and  vessels  from 
the  infected  ports,  being  permitted  to  enter  the  city's 
docks  without  inspection  or  quarantine,  brought  the 
contagion  swiftly  to  our  doors.  Its  first  stealthy 


TWO  FORMS  OF  FEVER  303 

advances  awakened  little  notice.  A  few  stevedores, 
a  sailor  or  two,  died,  and  no  one  knew  what  ailed 
them.  More  sickened,  and  suddenly,  without  further 
warning,  without  pause  for  mere  suspicion  or  uncer- 
tainty, the  terrified  city  realized  that  she  was  in  the 
grasp  of  the  pestilence.  On  the  twenty -first  of  August, 
Dr.  Benjamin  Rush  writes  the  first  of  a  long  and  deeply 
interesting  series  of  letters  to  his  absent  wife.  A 
malignant  fever,  he  says,  has  broken  out  on  the  river 
front.  Already  he  has  been  called  on  to  treat  a  dozen 
patients,  and  three  of  them  are  dead.  Two  days  later, 
Elizabeth  Drinker  notes  with  characteristic  brevity  in 
her  diary :  "  A  fever  prevails  in  ye  City,  particularly 
on  Water  St.,  between  Race  and  Arch  Sts.,  of  ye 
malignant  kind;  numbers  have  died  of  it." 

From  this  time  until  the  coining  of  the  first  keen 
frosts  of  November,  the  story  of  Philadelphia  is  like 
the  oft-repeated  story  of  the  Plague.  The  fever  swept  > 
as  a  whirlwind  through  Water  Street,  leaving  none  but  # 
dead  behind  it,  and  spread  with  horrible  speed  into 
every  quarter  of  the  town.  In  the  panic  that  ensued, 
there  was  a  mad  rush  for  the  safety  of  the  open  fields 
and  the  adjacent  towns.  Seventeen  thousand  people 
fled  within  a  month.  The  mayor,  Matthew  Clarkson, 
stood  stoutly  at  his  post,  and,  with  the  help  of  a  com- 
mittee chiefly  composed  of  Quakers,  organized  meas- 
ures of  relief,  —  measures  which  were  necessarily 
inadequate,  though  they  alleviated  the  untold  misery 


804 


PHILADELPHIA 


of  the  poor.  People  burned  tar  in  the  streets,  and 
carried  sprigs  of  wormwood,  —  pitiful,  impotent  little 
remedies,  by  which  they  hoped  to  stay  the  relentless 
hand  of  death.  The  corpses  were  buried  quietly  at 
night,  as  in  plague-stricken  London ;  and  through  the 


AN    OL.D    STREET 


scattered  suburbs  of  the  city,  men  and  women,  unable 
to  secure  the  services  of  undertakers,  dug  lonely  graves 
in  fields  and  woods,  and  laid  their  lost  to  rest.  Eliza- 
beth Drinker's  diary  is  filled  with  horrors  that  affect 
us  all  the  more  powerfully  because,  Quaker-like,  she 
allows  herself  no  license  in  narrating  them.  In  that 


TWO  FORMS  OF  FEVER  305 

vain  frenzy  of  selfishness  which  stifles  pity,  those  who 
were  yet  untainted  thrust  their  sick  and  dying  into  the 
streets,  or  fled  themselves  from  the  squalid  rooms  where 
Death  was  busy  with  his  work.  Amid  so  much  bru- 
tality, so  much  callous  indifference  to  ties  of  kinship 
and  affection,  it  is  touching  to  read  of  the  poor  sailor, 
haggard  and  heartbroken,  who  stopped  Dr.  Rush  in 
the  street,  and  offered  him  twenty  pounds  —  a  sailor's 
fortune  —  if  he  would  pay  but  a  single  visit  to  his 
infected  wife. 

Indeed,  painful  as  are  the  details  which  Dr.  Rush 
is  necessarily  forced  to  relate,  his  letters  breathe  such 
steadfastness  of  purpose,  such  fortitude,  such  un- 
broken, unostentatious  heroism,  that  they  invigorate 
rather  than  depress  the  reader.  "  I  enjoy  good  health 
and  uncommon  tranquillity  of  mind,"  he  writes  in 
the  beginning  of  this  terrible  season;  and  when,  two 
months  later,  his  health  is  shattered  by  repeated  at- 
tacks of  the  fever,  his  tranquillity  is  still  unmarred. 
Never  once  does  the  absent  wife  stoop  to  beg  her  hus- 
band to  consider  his  own  safety;  never  once  does  the 
physician  remember  with  a  selfish  pang  that  every 
risk  he  runs  jeopardizes  the  welfare  of  his  family. 
The  path  of  duty  is  so  clearly  and  sharply  defined 
that  there  is  no  room  in  either  heart  for  the  consid- 
eration of  side  issues. 

In  justice  to  human  nature,  however,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  in  this  case  duty  received  a  splendid 


306  PHILADELPHIA 

stimulus  from  professional  pride  and  professional 
hostility.  Dr.  Rush  discovered  a  remedy  for  the 
fever,  which  he  firmly  believed  and  asserted  to  be  in- 
fallible, if  taken  in  time.  He  bled  his  patients  as 
freely  as  though  he  had  been  a  sixteenth  century 
practitioner,  and  he  dosed  them  with  jalap  and  mer- 
cury instead  of  the  quinine  usually  prescribed.  The 
majority  of  Philadelphia's  doctors  repudiated  this 
treatment,  and  the  battle  that  raged  around  the  bed- 
sides of  the  sick  and  dying  lent  zest  to  the  physi- 
cians' perilous  labours.  They  risked  their  lives  hourly, 
but  they  had  the  honour  of  science  as  well  as  the 
good  of  humanity  to  sustain  them. 

Dr.  Rush's  sentiments  are  never  a  matter  for  doubt. 
On  the  thirteenth  of  September  he  writes :  "  Yester- 
day was  a  day  of  triumph  to  mercury,  jalap,  and 
bleeding.  I  am  satisfied  that  they  saved  in  my  hands 
nearly  one  hundred  lives.  .  .  .  Scores  are  daily  sac- 
rificed to  bark  and  wine."  As  the  fever  grew  more 
deadly,  the  contest  deepened  and  darkened.  "The 
physicians  murder  by  rule,"  he  writes  on  September 
21st.  "  Nor  is  this  all ;  they  have  confederated  against 
me  in  the  most  cruel  manner,  and  are  propagating 
calumnies  against  me  in  every  part  of  the  city.  .  .  . 
Never  before  did  I  witness  such  a  mass  of  ignorance 
and  wickedness  as  our  profession  has  exhibited  in  the 
course  of  the  present  calamity." 

Life  is  not  wholly  a  burden  to  any  man  who  cher- 


TWO  FORMS  OF  FEVER  307 

ishes  such  hearty  antagonism  as  this,  and  it  is  plain 
that  wrath  was  a  most  excellent  tonic  to  the  good 
doctor,  and  helped  him  materially  to  face  the  daily 
perils  that  beset  him.  The  city,  he  admits,  was  a 
mass  of  contagion.  The  tainted  air  was  loaded  with 
foul  and  nauseating  odours.  He  himself  was  as  deeply 
poisoned  as  Rappaccini's  daughter,  and  believed  that, 
like  the  maid,  he  was  safe  from  all  further  infection. 
"I  ascribe  my  freedom  from  fatigue  and  my  sleepless 
nights  wholly  to  the  stimulus  of  the  contagion  in  my 
system,"  he  writes;  "for  I  am  so  full  of  it  that  it 
has  now  become  part  of  myself.  It  is  not  dangerous 
unless  excited  into  action  by  heat,  cold,  fatigue,  or 
high  living." 

This  is  the  language  of  enthusiasm,  and  in  this  ex- 
alted frame  of  mind  he  battled  to  the  end.  When  at 
last  the  cold  weather  checked  the  progress  of  the 
fever,  it  had  counted  nearly  five  thousand  victims,  a 
ghastly  reckoning  if  we  remember  that  the  city,  de- 
serted by  all  who  could  escape,  held  less  than  thirty 
jhousand  inhabitants  during  the  greater  part  of  these 
terrible  months.  When  the  pestilence  was  at  its 
height,  two  hundred  victims  were  buried  in  a  single 
day;  and  often  the  frightened  housewife,  opening  her 
door  cautiously  in  the  early  morning,  would  see  upon 
her  step  the  swollen  corpse  of  some  abandoned  creature 
who  had  crawled  thither  to  perish,  alone  and  unpitied, 
in  the  night.  Ten  physicians  and  ten  clergymen  —  two 


308  PHILADELPHIA 

of  them  Roman  Catholic  priests  —  died  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  their  duties;  and  to  the  brave  and  tranquil 
charity  of  the  Quakers  many  stricken  wretches  owed 
their  lives. 

The  battle  of  the  drugs,  however,  had  not  yet  been 
fought  to  the  close.  It  was  renewed  with  much  spirit 
and  animosity  when  the  yellow  fever  revisited  Phila- 
delphia, in  a  less  virulent  form,  during  several  suc- 
ceeding summers.  Dr.  Rush  endured  the  attacks  of 
his  brother  practitioners  with  what  slender  patience 
he  could  muster ;  but  when,  in  1797.  William  Cobbett 
ridiculed  him  unmercifully  in  Peter  Porcupine's  Ga- 
zette, and  likened  his  treatment  to  that  of  Dr.  San- 
grado,  he  promptly  sued  the  Englishman  for  libel, 
and  was  granted  damages  to  the  extent  of  five  thou- 
sand dollars.  It  was  an  enormous  sum  for  those  days ; 
but  the  physician  was  beloved  by  the  community  he 
had  served,  and  the  journalist  was  unpopular,  both  as 
a  foreigner,  and  as  a  satirist  who  habitually  and  un- 
wisely hurled  his  shafts  at  the  idols  of  the  populace. 
The  verdict  ruined  him.  His  property  was  seized,  and 
sold  at  a  sacrifice.  He  returned  to  England,  and  from 
that  day  forth  no  man  diverted  himself  at  the  expense 
of  mercury  and  jalap.  The  pastime  was  held  to  be 
too  costly. 

With  the  approach  of  winter,  the  coming  back  of 
the  frightened  exiles,  and  the  comforting  assurance 
that  the  fever  was  at  an  end,  Philadelphia  felt  herself 


TWO  FORMS  OF  FEVER  309 

encouraged  to  take  up  once  more,  though  in  a  modi- 
fied form,  her  interrupted  sansculottism.  She  began 
by  holding  a  modest  meeting  in  the  State  House  yard 
to  protest  against  the  seizure  of  American  vessels  by 
British  cruisers,  and  to  urge  the  government  to  extend 
to  France  every  favour  which  "  friendship  can  dictate, 
and  justice  can  allow."  This  was  the  little  end  of 
the  wedge,  and  was  followed  in  a  few  weeks  by  a 
public  parade,  and  a  public  dinner,  at  which  Citizen 
Fauchet  received  the  "  fraternal  embraces "  of  his 
American  sympathizers,  "amid  the  animated  joy  and 
acclamations  of  the  whole  company."  The  vestry  of 
Christ  Church  was  at  the  same  time  bidden  to  remove 
from  the  east  front  of  the  edifice  an  ancient  medallion, 
containing  a  bas-relief  of  George  II.;  and  though  the 
order  emanated  only  from  that  dubious  authority,  "  the 
people,"  it  was  promptly  and  patiently  obeyed. 

In  early  summer  the  city  amused  itself  with  a  grand 
demonstration  in  honour  of  the  French  Republic.  A 
statue  of  liberty  was  erected  at  Twelfth  and  Market 
Streets ;  and,  on  an  altar  at  its  base,  young  girls  strewed 
offerings  of  flowers,  while  an  oration  in  French  was 
pronounced,  and  fraternal  embraces  were  exchanged. 
The  crowd,  delighted  with  the  spectacle,  sang  the 
Marseillaise,  danced  the  Carmagnole,  made  a  bonfire 
of  the  English  flag,  and  rapturously  applauded  the 
sentiment,  "May  tyrants  never  be  withheld  from  the 
guillotine's  closest  embraces." 


310  PHILADELPHIA 

It  seemed  like  a  repetition  of  the  mad  folly  which 
a  year  before  had  supported  Citizen  Genet's  insolent 
assumption  of  authority,  but  there  was  this  difference 
between  the  two  situations.  Then  the  rabid  Republi- 
cans really  hoped  to  force  the  administration  into  an 
alliance  with  France ;  now  they  knew  that  all  such 
hopes  were  futile.  They  were  at  liberty  to  be  as 
picturesquely  and  sentimentally  Gallic  as  they  pleased ; 
but  while  they  were  wearing  tri-coloured  cockades,  and 
singing  the  Marseillaise  in  our  once  decorous  Quaker 
streets,  Chief  Justice  Jay  was  in  England,  negotiating 
a  treaty  in  the  interests  of  long-neglected  commerce. 
It  is  true  that  this  treaty  was  exceedingly  hateful  to 
the  populace,  which  swore  that  the  chief  justice  had 
sold  his  country  to  Great  Britain,  and  which  mani- 
fested its  displeasure  by  burning  his  effigy  at  Kensing- 
ton, breaking  the  windows  of  the  English  consul 
and  of  Mr.  William  Bingham,  and  bitterly  maligning 
the  government.  It  is  true  that  at  a  town  meeting 
which  was  attended  by  Stephen  Girard  and  a  number 
of  prominent  men,  a  resolution  was  adopted,  stating 
briefly  and  angrily  that  "the  citizens  of  Philadelphia 
do  not  approve  of  the  treaty  between  Lord  Grenville 
and  Mr.  Jay."  Yet  Washington's  serenity  was  undis- 
turbed. Perhaps  he  did  not  care  whether  the  citizens 
of  Philadelphia  approved  or  disapproved.  He  had 
braved  their  displeasure  before  this,  and  they  had  vili- 
fied him  —  as  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Jefferson  —  "  in  such 


TWO  FOEMS  OF  FEVER 


311 


exaggerated  and  indecent  terms  as  could  scarcely  be 
applied  to  a  Nero,  a  defaulter,  or  a  common  pick- 
pocket." Perhaps  he  was  upheld  by  the  knowledge 
that  the  merchants  and  shippers  of  the  city  were  eager 
for  their  interrupted  trade.  The  treaty  was  ratified  on 
the  eleventh  of  August,  and  the  President  listened 
unmoved  to  the  echoes  of  the 
hostility  it  aroused. 

And  indeed   it   was    high 
time  that  the  authority 
of  the  administration 
should  be  asserted  and 
maintained.   The  Scotch-Irish 
whiskey   distillers   of    Penn- 
sylvania had  for  years  ignored 
or  opposed  the  excise  law,  as 
a  form  of  taxation  of  which 
they  personally  disapproved, 
and    which   they,    in    conse- 
quence,   resolutely    declined 

to  pay.  Advice,  expostulation,  reasoning,  had  all 
been  tried  in  vain.  They  responded  by  tarring  and 
feathering  the  collectors,  and  by  threatening  to  burn 
Pittsburg,  then  a  village  of  only  twelve  hundred 
inhabitants.  A  "second  Sodom,"  the  pious  insurgents 
called  this  straggling  township,  and  declared  them- 
selves ready  to  play  the  r61e  of  an  avenging  Provi- 
dence, and  destroy  it.  It  was  not  until  the  patience 


JEFFERSON'S  CHAIU 


312  PHILADELPHIA 

of  the  government  had  been  exhausted,  and  an  army 
of  fifteen  thousand  men  had  been  sent  into  Penn- 
sylvania, prepared  to  argue  the  matter  "in  platoons," 
that  the  distillers  were  convinced  of  their  error,  and 
realized  that  it  was  no  longer  their  privilege  to  obey 
or  reject  at  discretion  the  laws  of  the  United  States. 
In  Philadelphia,  the  same  spirit  of  what  was  then 
termed  liberty  vented  itself  in  reckless  declamation, 
and  in  a  lively  sympathy  for  France,  as  the  country 
which  had  assuredly  presented  to  the  world  the  most 
expansive  theory  of  freedom.  So  exceedingly  French 
had  we  become  that  Citizen  Adet,  who  had  in  turn 
replaced  Citizen  Fauchet,  requested  the  suppression 
of  the  town  directory,  because  the  English  minister's 
name  had  been  printed  in  it  before  his  own,  and  the  pub- 
lic supported  him  in  this  mild  demand,  with  which  the 
publishers  stoutly  declined  to  comply.  Cobbett,  who 
undertook  to  fight  the  battle  of  Great  Britain  in  Peter 
Porcupine's  Gazette,  was  the  object  of  a  deeper  hostil- 
ity than  often  falls  to  the  lot  of  any  one  man,  a  relent- 
less hostility  which  seemed  to  give  him  genuine  satis- 
faction until  it  proved  his  ruin.  Even  the  repeated 
seizures  of  American  vessels  by  French  privateers, 
though  -it  sorely  damped  our  enthusiasm,  could  not 
altogether  subdue  it ;  arid  Dr.  George  Logan,  an  ardent 
Republican  and  anti-Federalist,  conceived  the  brilliant 
idea  of  going  to  France  as  a  self-appointed  "  ambassador 
of  the  people,"  to  obtain  a  redress  of  this  grievance. 


TWO  FORMS  OF  FEVER  313 

His  mission,  which  was  generally  understood  though 
not  openly  acknowledged,  aroused  profound  excite- 
ment in  Philadelphia.  Friends  and  followers  sang 
his  praises  loudly;  conservative  people  asked  them- 
selves what  would  be  the  result  if  private  citizens 
should  often  undertake  to  settle  their  country's  diffi- 
culties, without  the  authority  •  of  the  administration ; 
and  hostile  Federal  newspapers  made  the  most  of 
the  situation  by  pretending  to  believe  he  had  gone  to 
obtain  the  help  of  a  foreign  power,  and  that  his  object 
was  the  destruction  of  our  government,  and  the  es- 
tablishment of  an  American  Reign  of  Terror.  "Can 
any  sensible  man  hesitate  to  suspect,"  piped  the  Phila- 
delphia G-azette,  "  that  Dr.  Logan's  infernal  design  can 
be  anything  less  than  the  introduction  of  a  French  army, 
to  teach  us  the  value  of  true  and  essential  liberty  by  re- 
organizing our  government  through  the  blessed  operation 
of  the  bayonet  and  the  guillotine  ?  Let  every  American 
now  gird  on  his  sword.  The  demagogue  has  gone  to 
the  Directory  for  purposes  of  destruction  to  your  lives, 
property,  liberty,  and  holy  religion." 

It  was  all  deeply  interesting,  though  the  concluding 
chapters  seem  a  little  tame.  Dr.  Logan  returned 
home  without  an  army  at  his  heels,  and  without  hav- 
ing softened  the  hearts  of  the  Directory.  He  was 
coldly  received  by  Mr.  Adams  who  did  not  approve 
of  self-appointed  envoys.  The  official  representatives 
of  the  United  States  met,  however,  with  no  greater 


314  PHILADELPHIA 

success ;  and  the  aggressive  attitude  maintained  by 
France  made  our  unreciprocated  admiration  a  trifle 
ridiculous,  even  in  our  own  eyes.  "Hail  Columbia!' 
written  by  Hopkinson,  and  first  sung  in  Philadel- 
phia on  the  twenty-fifth  of  April,  1798,  took  the 
public  fancy  by  storm,  and  gradually  supplanted  the 
Marseillaise,  although  denounced  by  the  extreme  Re- 
publicans as  an  "Anglo-monarchical"  anthem.  Amid 
so  many  cares,  interests,  and  anxieties  of  our  own,  it 
became  impossible  to  fix  our  attention  permanently  upon 
the  triumphant  career  of  a  foreign  nation,  especially 
upon  a  foreign  nation  which  seized  our  ships,  and 
paid  no  attention  to  our  continued  remonstrances. 
Philadelphia  was  on  the  eve  of  a  great  change  which 
was  to  materially  alter  her  history  and  her  character. 
She  had  long  been  the  most  important  city  of  the  colo- 
nies, and  of  the  United  States.  She  had  been  the 
centre  and  the  heart  of  our  national  life.  She  had 
been  the  lawgiver,  both  of  Pennsylvania  and  of  the 
Republic.  She  had  been  proud,  gay,  quarrelsome,  and 
wantonly  extravagant.  She  had  well-nigh  forgotten 
the  lessons  of  her  Founder.  Now  her  honours  were 
about  to  be  wrested  from  her,  one  by  one.  In  1799 
the  state  Legislature  was  removed  to  Harrisburg,  and 
Philadelphia,  after  a  reign  of  one  hundred  and  seven- 
teen years,  was  no  longer  the  capital  of  her  province. 
In  1800  the  Federal  government  was  carried  to  Wash- 
ington, and  with  it  went  political  supremacy,  and  that 


TWO  FORMS  OF  FEVER  315 

social  distinction  which  was  then  its  closest  ally,  and 
which  can  never  be  wholly  divorced  from  the  centre 
of  political  power. 

The  nation,  too,  was  in  a  state  of  transition  and 
restless  anxiety.  Adams  had  succeeded  to  the  presi- 
dency, and  in  December,  1799,  Washington  died. 
He  was  buried  at  Mount  Vernon ;  but  Philadelphia, 
excited  and  sorrowful,  decreed  him  funeral  honours, 
dragged  his  empty  bier  through  her  streets,  and  lis- 
tened at  night  to  a  monody,  delivered  at  her  theatre 
to  the  accompaniment  of  solemn  dirges.  The  stage 
was  decorated  with  a  huge  catafalque,  bearing  the 
hero's  portrait  encircled  by  an  oak  wreath.  Above 
was  an  eagle  weeping  tears  of  blood,  and,  underneath, 
an  inscription  explaining  with  needless  lucidity  that 
these  were  the  nation's  tears. 

The  diary  of  Elizabeth  Drinker  contains  two  long 
entries,  the  unwonted  details  of  which  clearly  show 
that  even  tranquil  Quaker  households  were  deeply 
interested  in  these  mournful  commemorations,  in 
which  —  as  Friends  —  they  could  not  conscientiously 
take  part,  but  which  they  were  just  as  eager  as  other 
people  to  see.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  December,  she 
writes :  "  There  are  to  be  great  doings  to-morrow  by 
way  of  respect  to  George  Washington ;  a  funeral 
procession,  and  an  oration  or  eulogium  to  be  de- 
livered by  Henry  Lc  3,  a  member  of  Congress  from 
Virginia.  The  members  of  Congress  are  to  wear 


316  PHILADELPHIA 

deep  mourning;  the  citizens  generally  are  to  wear 
crape  around  their  arms  for  six  months.  Congress- 
hall  is  in  mourning,  and  even  the  Play-house.  There 
has  been,  and  is  like  to  be,  much  said  and  done  on  the 
occasion.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  of  his  death,  and  so  are 
many  others  who  make  no  show.  Those  forms,  to 
be  sure,  are  out  of  our  way ;  but  many  will  join 
in  ye  form  that  cared  little  about  him." 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  December,  she  writes 
again :  "  The  funeral  procession  in  honour  of  ye  late 
Commander-in-chief  of  the  Armies  of  the  United 
States,  Lieut.  Gen.  Washington,  yesterday  took 
place.  They  assembled  at  the  State-house,  and  went 
from  thence  in  grand  procession  to  ye  Dutch  church  in 
Fourth  Street,  called  Zion  church,  where  Major  Gen. 
Henry  Lee  delivered  an  oration  to  four  thousand 
persons,  or  near  that  number,  who  were,  'tis  said, 
within  the  church.  Ye  concourse  of  people  in  ye 
streets  and  at  ye  windows  was  very  numerous. 
Nancy  and  Molly  were  at  their  sister  Sally's,  to 
gratify  their  curiosity. 

So  all  is  over  with  G.  Washington." 


IN   FAIBMOUNT   PARK 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DEPRESSION 

rnHE  history  of  Philadelphia  for  the  first  half  of 
the  present  century  does  not  make  vivacious 
reading.  She  had  turned  her  page,  and  the  long 
story  of  her  struggles,  her  triumphs,  her  pride  of 
place,  her  political  power,  her  reckless  dissipation, 
was  at  an  end.  In  its  stead,  we  have  a  dismal  nar- 
rative, full  of  such  familiar  phrases  as  "  dull  times," 
"  hard  winters,"  "  stagnant  trade,"  "  great  suffering 
among  the  poor,"  —  all  included  in  the  inevitable  re- 
action from  a  mad  extravagance  that  had  no  sounder 
basis  than  speculation,  and  the  allurements  of  an  in- 
flated currency.  The  embargo  act  of  1807,  which 

317 


318  PHILADELPHIA 

forbade  vessels  to  set  sail  from  the  United  States  for 
any  foreign  port,  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the  com- 
mercial ruin  of  a  city  which  had  covered  the  sea 
with  her  ships.  The  act  may  or  may  not  have  been 
annoying  to  the  foreign  ports  which  it  was  meant  to 
injure;  but  the  havoc  it  made  at  home  was  never  a 
matter  for  doubt.  Philadelphia  drooped  pitifully 
under  this  cruel  hurt.  "The  grass  grew  on  her 
wharves,  the  ships  rotted  in  their  moorings."  Hungry, 
penniless  sailors  paraded  the  streets,  and  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  people  was  strongly  aroused  for  these 
poor  mariners  who  were  so  childishly  incapable  of 
understanding  the  law  which  locked  up  their  boats, 
and  bade  them  starve  in  peace.  Help  there  was 
none,  however,  and  hundreds  of  them  made  their 
way  to  Nova  Scotia,  and,  entering  the  English  ser- 
vice, regained  their  sea  under  an  alien  flag.  Des- 
perate efforts  were  made  by  ship-owners  and  captains 
to  elude  the  embargo ;  but  Napoleon  the  ruthless 
ordered  the  seizure  of  all  American  vessels,  without 
distinction  or  favour,  cynically  observing  that,  by  the 
commands  of  their  own  government,  they  were  for- 
bidden to  sail,  and  that  he  was  assisting  the  United 
States  to  maintain  her  admirable  restrictions. 

The  once  prosperous  Quaker  City  was  now  dull,  de- 
jected, and  heavy  with  many  cares.  All  classes  shared 
in  the  general  anxiety ;  few  men  were  rich  enough  to 
help  their  poorer  neighbours.  Robert  Morris,  old, 


DEPRESSION  319 

bankrupt,  arid  brokenhearted,  had  seen  his  noble  fort- 
une melt  like  mist,  and  his  friends  vanish  away  like 
floating  mist-wreaths.  His  beautiful  home, which  never 
reached  completion,  was  sold  by  the  sheriff,  and  pulled 
down  stone  by  stone ;  his  books  and  ornaments  were 
bought  by  fellow-townsmen  ;  and  he  who  had  saved  the 
honour  of  his  country,  who  had  fed  and  clothed  her 
starved  and  ragged  soldiers,  who  had  deemed  no  labour 
too  great,  no  gift  too  generous  when  the  welfare  of  the 
Republic  was  at  stake,  was  suffered  to  lie  for  four 
years  in  a  debtor's  prison,  while  the  people  he  had 
served  in  their  utmost  need  wagged  their  heads  wisely, 
and  talked  pious  platitudes  about  the  Tower  of  Babel 
and  inordinate  ambition.  Each  summer  the  ravages  of 
the  yellow  fever  emptied  the  jail  where  Philadelphia's 
greatest  citizen,  forgotten  or  ignored,  breathed  the  pes- 
tilential air,  and  waited  patiently  for  the  end.  When 
at  last  he  was  set  at  liberty,  that  end  was  near  at  hand ; 
but  that  it  did  not  find  him  still  in  durance  was  a 
matter  for  self-congratulation  on  the  part  of  his  coun- 
trymen. Something  they  felt  was  due  in  return  for  his 
services,  and  Robert  Morris  was  permitted  to  die  under 
a  roof  of  his  own,  and  in  the  arms  of  his  wife.  Who 
shall  say  that  republics  are  ungrateful ! 

The  refusal  of  Congress  to  re-charter  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States  in  1811,  added  another  heavy  load  to  the 
financial  distress  of  Philadelphia.  In  vain  her  mer- 
chants, her  manufacturers,  her  carpenters,  and  house- 


320  PHILADELPHIA 

builders  sent  their  deputations  to  plead  for  a  new 
charter,  and  to  lay  their  dire  necessities  before  the 
House.  Of  what  avail  was  the  homely  reasoning  of 
mere  business  men  and  mechanics,  when  Henry  Clay, 
master  of  rhetoric  and  flowing  periods,  denounced  the 
towering  pride  of  corporations,  and  scoffed  at  the  utility 
of  banks.  So,  on  the  eve  of  war,  the  city  saw  herself 
crippled  and  bound.  France  had  swept  away  her  ships, 
Congress  had  swept  away  her  credit,  and  England  stood 
ready  to  sweep  away  whatever  might  by  any  chance  be 
left. 

In  these  sad  times,  the  old  fighting  instinct  came  to 
the  rescue  of  the  commonwealth.  "  National  happi- 
ness," says  the  peace-loving  Deborah  Logan,  "  was  sus- 
pended by  the  war  of  1812";  but  this  is  a  more  than 
doubtful  statement.  National  prosperity  was,  indeed, 
sorely  crippled,  and  no  town  outside  of  New  England 
was  more  cruelly  impoverished  than  Philadelphia, 
where  all  the  necessaries  of  life  had  grown  alarmingly 
dear,  and  where  the  stagnation  of  commerce  threatened 
absolute  ruin.  But  with  the  declaration  of  war,  of  an  un- 
popular, but  not  inglorious  war,  came  the  excitement  of 
combat,  pushing  sordid  anxieties  into  the  background, 
and  filling  men's  minds  with  other  and  wider  cares. 
The  city  sent  forth  her  sons  to  fight,  and  some  of 
them,  like  Lieutenant  Biddle  of  the  Wasp,  brought  back 
honours  to  lay  proudly  at  her  feet.  She  fitted  up  pri- 
vateers,—  her  old  diversion,  —  and  she  found,  Heaven 


DEPRESSION  321 

knows  how!  money  for  the  government  loan.  The 
adventurous  raid  of  Sir  George  Cockburn,  who  marched 
into  Maryland  with  five  hundred  men,  as  with  an  in- 
vading army,  and  whom  nobody  took  by  the  shoulders 
and  turned  out,  thrilled  her  with  wholesome  shame. 
The  capture  of  Washington  aroused  her  to  a  sense  of 
personal  disgrace  and  personal  danger.  It  even  silenced 
for  a  time  the  quarrels  of  her  contending  factions,  and 
sent  every  able-bodied  man  to  drill  at  Camp  Dupont, 
or  to  work  at  the  defences  which,  being  inadequate, 
were  happily  never  needed.  No  citizen  was  permitted 
to  shirk  his  manifest  duty,  the  "State  Cockade"  was 
pinned  upon  every  shoulder,  and  even  the  comfortable 
voice  of  conscience  was  unheeded  in  the  din.  Pious 
men,  who  could  not  endure  the  ungodly  aspect  of  the 
camp,  were  requested  to  drill  apart,  and  make  up  a 
corps  of  their  own. 

By  this  time  the  French  fever  was  permanently  cured. 
Napoleon's  scornful  treatment  had  proved  wonderfully 
efficacious  in  healing  the  most  desperate  cases,  and 
when  the  news  of  his  downfall  reached  our  shores, 
Philadelphia,  exulting  openly,  set  at  once  about  the 
usual  dinners,  without  which  no  public  event  could  be 
properly  commemorated.  She  toasted  the  Emperor 
Alexander  and  the  King  of  Sweden ;  she  toasted  Hol- 
land and  Germany,  amid  wild  acclamations  of  delight ; 
she  toasted  the  "  patriots  "  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  But 
England,  whose  great  struggle  with  her  great  enemy 


322  PHILADELPHIA 

was  over  at  last,  England,  who  had  held  together  the 
allies,  paid  their  soldiers,  and  fought  their  battles,  re- 
ceived no  notice  at  these  civic  banquets.  Her  part  in 
the  work  was  ignored,  for  she  was  still  our  foe,  and  the 
dawn  of  peace  upon  the  continent  gave  her  a  breathing 
spell  which  could  not  fail  to  be  disadvantageous  to  our 
cause.  All  things  considered,  it  might  have  been  bet- 
ter for  us  if  Napoleon  had  engaged  her  attention  a 
little  longer. 

But  on  Christmas  Eve,  1814,  the  treaty  of  Ghent  was 
signed,  and  while  General  Jackson  was  fighting  and 
winning  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  word  was  coming 
slowly  over  the  sea  that  the  war  was  at  an  end,  and  that 
the  United  States  were  once  more  free  to  turn  their 
attention  to  their  own  pressing  needs.  Philadelphia's 
share  of  needs  was  plainly  manifest.  The  foreign  com- 
merce, which  had  brought  her  prosperity  for  so  many 
years,  had  received  a  check  from  which  it  never  wholly 
recovered.  Her  shipping  merchants,  who  had  built  up 
noble  fortunes  in  the  past,  strove,  but  strove  in  vain,  to 
regain  their  old  ascendency.  The  opening  of  what  was 
then  called  "  the  West "  ;  the  network  of  canals,  and 
afterwards  of  railways,  which  made  transportation  pos- 
sible and  even  easy,  gave  a  tremendous  impetus  to  New 
York,  now  reached  as  readily  as  her  sister  city,  —  New 
York  proudly  commanding  her  splendid  harbour,  and 
the  natural  outlet  for  our  grains.  We  laugh  when  we 
read  of  the  old  Philadelphia  newspapers  gravely  discuss- 


DEPRESSION  323 

ing  the  relative  merits  of  canals  and  railways,  and  com- 
ing to  the  serious  conclusion  that  the  latter  were  "  inex- 
pedient "  in  Pennsylvania.  Sleepy  little  town,  we  think, 
which  at  the  same  time  rejected  the  introduction  of  gas, 
declaring  it  to  be  a  public  nuisance,  unsafe,  undesirable, 
and  with  an  "  intolerable  smell."  Yet  it  was  a  long 
time  before  the  gas-pipes  proved  themselves  blessings 
to  the  community ;  and  the  immediate  result  of  the 
railways  was  to  make  Philadelphia  a  half-way  house  to 
the  great  city  of  commerce,  New  York. 

"  But  Linden  saw  another  sight," 

when,  very  slowly,  there  dawned  on  Pennsylvania  the 
knowledge  of  the  mineral  wealth  hidden  beneath  her 
bosom,  and  with  it  came  a  dim  revelation  of  the  vast 
industrialism  of  the  future.  The  first  successful  experi- 
ments with  our  own  anthracite  coal  were  made  in  Phila- 
delphia immediately  after  the  declaration  of  peace,  and 
its  superiority  over  the  Virginia  coal  in  heating  and 
rolling  iron  promised  magnificent  results,  sure  to  be 
long  in  coming,  but  sure  to  come  at  last.  One  fifth  of 
all  gold  or  silver  ore  found  in  his  province,  had  Penn 
promised  to  send  back  to  England's  king ;  but  here  at 
length  were  the  mines  whose  inexhaustible  riches  should 
fill  the  land  with  plenty.  Four  years  later,  we  find  Le- 
high  coal  offered  for  sale  in  Philadelphia,  "  in  quantities 
not  less  than  one  ton,"  the  price  being  eight  dollars  and 
forty  cents.  It  was  such  a  novelty,  and  people  were  at 


324  PHILADELPHIA 

once  so  curious  and  so  doubtful,  that  the  clever  agents 
kept  what  they  called  a  "  specimen  fire  "  burning  all 
day  long  at  172  Arch  Street,  that  purchasers  might 
see  for  themselves  what  an  admirable  fuel  they  were 
buying. 

The  year  1816  saw  the  second  National  Bank  of  the 
United  States  established  in  Philadelphia,  a  bank  des- 
tined to  be  wrecked,  like  so  many  other  institutions, 
by  factious  hostility  and  violence.  Her  mint  —  not  the 
present  marble  pile  with  its  Ionic  columns,  but  a  modest 
predecessor  —  was  coining  plenty  of  copper  cents,  and 
a  few  silver  dollars,  then  highly  esteemed,  and  all 
too  insufficient  for  the  country's  needs.  The  rapid  in- 
crease in  population,  with  its  corresponding  decrease  of 
grace  and  virtue,  industry  and  thrift,  had  made  the 
feeding  of  the  poor  and  the  suppression  of  crime  more 
difficult  and  more  inefficacious  every  year.  It  is  true 
that  so  many  benevolent  associations  were  at  work 
starting  soup  kitchens  and  kindred  charities  in  the 
Quaker  City,  that  for  a  long  time  she  was  known  as 
the  "  emporium  of  beggars,"  and  idle  vagabonds  flocked 
from  neighbouring  states  to  enjoy  her  hospitality.  Yet 
destitution  on  the  one  hand,  and  viciousness  on  the 
other,  kept  pace  with  her  daily  growth.  The  alms- 
house  and  the  prison  were  equally  crowded,  and  equally 
mismanaged.  Philadelphia,  says  Mr.  MacMaster,  was 
attempting  to  control  a  population  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand by  the  same  primitive  methods  she  had  used  sue- 


DEPRESSION 


325 


cessfully  for  twenty  thousand.     She  had  become  a  city, 
without  ceasing  to  be  a  village. 

While  things  were  in  this  uncomfortable  period  of 
transition,  La  Fayette  came  to  the  United  States,  and 
twice  visited  the  town,  "  the  great  and  beautiful  town 


OLD  HOUSES  BY  THE  RIVER 


of  Philadelphia,"  as  he  politely  said,  "  which  first  wel- 
comed me  as  a  recruit,  and  now  welcomes  me  as  a  vet- 
eran." Of  the  warmth  of  this  welcome  there  was  no 
shadow  of  doubt.  What  other  man  could  have  borne 
the  weight  of  such  sustained  enthusiasm  !  Six  cream- 
coloured  horses  drew  his  carriage,  and  the  First  and 
Second  City  Troops  escorted  him  proudly  through  the 


326  PHILADELPHIA 

thronged  streets.  He  was  dined,  and  wined,  and  pre- 
sented with  unstinted  addresses  in  French  and  English. 
The  Free  Masons,  the  Cincinnati,  the  school  children, 
and  all  orders,  societies,  and  bodies  of  citizens  generally 
waited  upon  him,  and  were  received  with  indefatigable 
courtesy.  He  amiably  permitted  himself  to  be  taken 
to  all  the  city's  sights,  from  the  penitentiary  and  the 
new  waterworks  at  Fairmount,  to  Vauxhall  Garden, 
where  a  band  of  little  boys  and  girls  met  him  with 
lighted  torches,  and  surrounded  him  as  a  guard  of 
honour  while  he  listened  to  the  music,  or  stared  at  the 
appropriate  fireworks. 

Philadelphia  always  delighted  to  show  reverence 
to  her  distinguished  guests.  Kosciuszko,  for  whom 
"  Freedom  shrieked,"  had  visited  her  hospitable 
homes,  and  had  received  unvarying  kindness  and 
respect.  Kossuth  was  to  prove  in  the  future  that 
her  admiration  for  patriots  and  patriotism  was  still 
undimmed.  But  La  Fayette  she  really  loved.  He 
had  fought  her  battles,  he  had  been  wounded  in  her 
cause,  he  had  given  her  and  her  sister  cities  the  honest 
devotion  of  his  youth.  His  career  since  those  early 
days  had  not  been  a  very  dazzling  one ;  but  the 
breathless,  blood-stained,  terrible,  glorious  history  of 
France  had  permitted  only  the  strong  and  the  un- 
swerving to  play  memorable  parts  upon  her  shifting 
stage.  It  was  not  a  time  for  well-meant  futilities, 
or  indecisive  action ;  and  men  more  resolute  than  La 


DEPRESSION  327 

Fayette  had  failed  to  steer  their  course  amid  such 
Titanic  storms.  It  must  have  been  to  him  an  inex- 
pressible pleasure  to  see  once  again  the'  land  of  his 
boyish  enthusiasm,  the  people  who  cherished  for  him 
nothing  but  affection  and  respect.  Never  did  any  man 
thirst  more  keenly  for  admiration ;  never  did  any 
nation  admire  more  honestly,  or  with  more  fervid 
zeal.  The  visit  of  this  well-loved  Frenchman  rekindled 
even  the  embers  of  a  burned-out  fire ;  and  when  the 
Bourbons  were  expelled  from  France  after  the  revolu- 
tion of  1830,  Philadelphia  awoke  to  a  transitory  glow, 
called  meetings,  passed  resolutions,  and  sent  her  sober 
citizens  inarching  through  the  streets  to  the  airs  which 
had  once  heated  the  city's  blood  to  fever  point,  but 
which  now  produced  only  an  afternoon's  pleasurable 
excitement. 

There  were  still  links  which  bound  this  restless,  fast- 
growing  population  to  the  past,  still  old  habits  and 
customs  not  easily  relinquished.  The  social  aspects 
of  the  town  had  altered  less  than  her  political  and 
commercial  life.  She  was  quieter,  more  thrifty  than 
in  the  first  expansive  years  of  freedom,  but  otherwise 
unchanged.  She  is  unchanged  to-day.  When  things 
are  as  good  as  they  can  possibly  be,  what  consummate 
wisdom  in  leaving  them  alone !  Before  the  present 
century  had  started  on  its  course,  before  Washington 
died,  or  Congress  was  carried  to  New  York,  Dr.  Caspar 
Wistar,  author  of  the  first  American  treatise  on 


328  PHILADELPHIA 

anatomy,  was  gathering  under  his  hospitable  roof  those 
informal  Sunday  night  assemblies  which  were  destined 
to  grow  into  the  celebrated  Wistar  Parties,  as  much 
an  institution  of  Philadelphia  as  the  Mint.  Like  all 
things  fated  to  long  life,  they  did  not  start  ready 
made,  did  not  proceed  from  any  definite  plan  of  organ- 
ization ;  but  expanded  slowly  and  comfortably  from 
a  few  guests  to  a  large  club,  from  the  friendliness  of 
Sunday  evenings  to  the  more  formal  elegance  of  Sat- 
urdays, from  cakes  and  wine  which  nobody  wanted  to 
oysters  and  terrapin  which  nobody  pretended  not  to 
want. 

All  this  took  time.  In  1811,  conviviality  had  ex- 
tended no  further  than  the  introduction  of  ice-cream, 
nuts  and  raisins,  —  strange  food  for  hungry  men; 
but  the  meetings  had  grown  regular,  and  many 
strangers  of  distinction  brought  charm  and  variety 
into  the  quiet  nights.  Among  the  early  guests  were 
Baron  von  Humboldt,  who,  returning  from  Mexico 
and  the  West  Indies,  lingered  a  little  while  in  Phila- 
delphia; and  Captain  Riley,  the  narrative  of  whose 
long  captivity  among  the  Arabs  was  one  of  the  treas- 
ures of  every  child's  library.  Children's  libraries  were 
not  then  the  plethoric  bookcases  of  to-day,  and  Captain 
Riley  ranked  as  a  second  Sinbad  for  wonderful  advent- 
ures and  ill-luck. 

After  the  death  of  Dr.  Wistar  in  1818,  it  was 
resolved  that  his  evenings  should  be  perpetuated  by 


DEPRESSION  329 

a  club  bearing  his  name,  the  members  of  which  should 
be  chosen  from  the  Philosophical  Society,  thus  securing 
"  mutual  improvement,"  as  in  Franklin's  youthful 
days.  The  ice-cream  was  wisely  abandoned  in  favour 
of  hot  dishes,  which  increased  and  multiplied  as  years 
went  on,  until  they  made  a  very  pleasing  impression 
upon  so  apt  a  judge  as  Thackeray,  who  was  not  wont 
to  ignore  the  essentials  of  life.  "If  I  had  been  in 
Philadelphia,  I  could  scarcely  have  been  more  feasted," 
he  was  good  enough  to  write,  after  a  season  of  London 
and  Paris  dinners;  and  the  gratified  Philadelphia^, 
reading  this  generous  tribute  to  his  birthplace,  mur- 
murs under  his  breath,  "Praise  from  Sir  Hubert 
Stanley,"  and  feels  justly  proud  of  the  Quaker  City's 
hospitality. 

In  1824  were  founded  the  Franklin  Institute  for  the 
promotion  of  mechanical  and  scientific  studies,  in  which 
Philadelphia  had  always  outranked  her  sister  cities,  and 
the  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society,  which  had  for  its 
purpose  "  the  elucidation  of  the  history  of  the  State." 
Both  these  institutions  began  life  with  characteristic 
modesty,  and  maintained  the  utmost  discretion  amid 
the  vicissitudes  of  impecunious  youth.  The  Franklin 
Institute,  like  the  Academy  of  Natural  Sciences,  was 
the  work  of  a  dozen  young  men, who  hardly  knew  how- 
much  they  hoped  to  accomplish,  when  they  banded 
together  and  devised  their  first  unpretending  schemes. 
A  few  lectures  in  the  old  Academy  building,  a  few 


330  PHILADELPHIA 

classes  for  architectural  and  mechanical  drawing,  a  few 
more,  later  on,  for  mathematics  and  modern  languages. 
This  was  all  they  could  boast,  save  a  few  useful  friends 
like  Alexander  Dallas  Bache,  great-grandson  of  Benja- 
min Franklin,  who  held  the  chairs  of  chemistry  and 
natural  philosophy  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  who  was  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  workers  for 
the  Institute  which  bore  his  great  ancestor's  name. 
There  seemed  no  lack  of  pupils,  however,  ready  and 
glad  to  avail  themselves  of  these  lectures  and  classes ; 
and  among  the  earliest  was  a  young  bricklayer  named 
Thomas  Walter,  who  learned  thus  the  rudimentary  prin- 
ciples of  architecture,  and  who  some  years  later  designed 
Girard  College  and  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 

Little  doubt  was  felt  at  any  time  of  the  Institute's 
permanent  success.  It  had  among  its  historical  relics 
the  original  electrical  apparatus,  and  the  clumsy  print- 
ing-press of  Benjamin  Franklin,  and  it  appealed  to  the 
spirit  he  had  fostered,  to  the  seed  which  had  taken  deep 
root  in  such  congenial  soil.  Did  not  Philadelphia,  in 
the  days  of  her  tender  youth,  prefer  lectures  on  elec- 
tricity to  the  graceless  levity  of  the  theatre  ?  "  Penn- 
sylvania," says  Mr.  Sydney  Fisher,  "  is  overwhelmingly 
manufacturing,  saturated  with  industrialism,  —  the  re- 
sult of  tendencies  that  have  been  working  for  two 
hundred  years."  At  the  very  time  that  Thomas  Walter 
was  learning  other  things  than  the  laying  of  brick  on 
brick,  a  young  silversmith  and  tool-maker  named 


*•  •      !  !»  »    •  * ,»  ;3» 

• '  '     >  > ' 


MASONIC    TEMPLE 


DEPRESSION  331 

Matthias  Baldwin  was  struggling  with  a  problem  so 
intricate,  and  of  such  absorbing  interest,  that  all  the 
former  occupations  and  amusements  of  his  days  faded 
into  dull  nothingness  by  its  side. 

How  curious  are  the  chances  that  come  into  men's 
lives  and  make  them  what  they  are  !  The  use  of  steam 
as  a  motor  power  for  railways  had  by  the  year  1829 
dawned  as  a  splendid  possibility  upon  the  world ;  and 
it  occurred  to  Mr.  Franklin  Peale,  the  enterprising 
manager  of  Philadelphia's  flourishing  museum,  that  a 
miniature  locomotive  in  good  working  order  would  be 
a  strong  attraction  to  his  patrons.  He  laid  the  matter 
before  Matthias  Baldwin,  who  undertook  eagerly,  yet 
with  profound  misgivings,  to  construct  the  ingenious 
toy,  which  was  to  be  large  enough  to  drag  two  car- 
riages, each  holding  two  people,  around  a  track  laid 
on  the  museum  floor.  The  little  engine  when  com- 
pleted was  wholly  successful,  both  from  a  scientific  and 
from  a  commercial  point  of  view,  —  Peale  well  under- 
stood the  temper  of  the  Philadelphians  whom  he 
studied  to  please,  —  and  seeing  it  run  its  appointed 
course  faithfully  hour  after  hour,  the  managers  of  the 
Germantown  and  Norristown  Railway  Company  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  steam  would  be  an  improvement 
on  horse  power,  even  for  their  few  miles  of  road.  They 
directed  Baldwin  to  build  them  a  locomotive,  equal  in 
drawing  power  to  an  English  engine  recently  imported 
by  the  Camden  and  Amboy  Railway  Company,  and 


332  PHILADELPHIA 

which  he  was  at  liberty  to  inspect  and  study,  It  was  a 
tremendous  undertaking  for  one  so  slenderly  equipped ; 
but  labouring  day  and  night  with  his  own  hands,  im- 
provising his  own  tools,  training  his  own  workmen, 
triumphing  over  obstacles  and  defeats,  Matthias  Bald- 
win toiled  on,  and  Old  Ironsides,  parent  of  American 
engines,  was  put  upon  the  road  on  the  twenty-third  of 
November,  1832. 

Vast  was  the  excitement  it  created,  and  vast  the 
crowds  that  flocked  to  see  it  start,  or — thrilling  with 
conscious  courage  —  take  their  places  in  the  carriages 
it  drew.  Its  utmost  speed  was  thirty  miles  an  hour, 
and  such  admirable  care  did  the  company  take  of  this 
new  possession  that  it  was  never  permitted  to  run 
out  carelessly  in  the  rain.  The  following  is  the 
notice  inserted  in  the  Daily  Advertiser:  — 

"  The  locomotive  engine  (built  by  M.  W.  Baldwin 
of  this  city)  will  depart  daily,  when  the  weather  is 
fair,  with  a  train  of  passenger  cars.  On  rainy  days, 
horses  will  be  attached." 

So  much  for  being  a  petted  only  child! 

The  difficulties  in  the  path  of  the  early  manufact- 
urers were  so  great,  their  discouragement  was  often  so 
profound,  that  Matthias  Baldwin  was  wont  to  say  de- 
cisively many  times  before  the  engine  was  completed, 
"  That  is  our  last  locomotive " ;  futile  words  when 
destiny  had  shaped  his  appointed  course.  The 
.  .  .  "fairy-tales  of  science" 


DEPRESSION  333 

are  the  fairy-tales  of  modernity,  and  the  mighty  prog- 
eny of  Old  Ironsides  have  gone  forth  over  the  civil- 
ized world.  To  Canada,  to  South  America,  to  Russia, 
to  Austria,  to  Scandinavia,  they  have  carried  the  story 
whose  interest  never  flags,  —  the  story  of  man's  con- 
quest over  the  elements,  of  his  patient  labour,  his 
resolute  perseverance,  his  unflinching  courage,  and 
final  mastery. 

For  matters  unconnected  with  steam  and  electricity, 
Philadelphia  evinced  but  a  languid  and  half-hearted 
regard.  The  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society,  founded 
the  same  winter  as  the  Franklin  Institute,  received 
scant  support  from  a  community  which,  having  broken 
away  from  the  past,  was  ready  to  bury  it  forever  out 
of  sight.  The  members  met  in  one  of  the  rooms  of 
the  Philosophical  Society,  elected  Mr.  William  Rawle 
as  their  president,  and  limited  their  expenses  for  fire 
and  candles  during  the  first  year  to  the  modest  sum  of 
fifty  dollars.  Unhelped  and  unheeded,  they  set  about 
their  appointed  task,  —  the  collection  of  books,  pam- 
phlets and  manuscripts,  many  of  them  of  great  value, 
yet  in  danger  of  being  permanently  lost  through  the 
general  indifference  to  their  safety.  For  more  than 
twenty  years  they  continued  this  useful  work  before 
aspiring  to  quarters  of  their  own,  and  then  rented  a 
single  room  on  Sixth  Street,  which  they  fitted  up  with 
a  bookcase  and  other  furniture,  —  "  cost,  not  to  exceed 
one  hundred  dollars."  Here,  and  in  the  upper  story 


334  PHILADELPHIA 

of  the  Athenseum  they  remained  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  the  success  of  their  labours  is  shown  by  the  size  of 
the  library  they  amassed.  When,  in  1872,  they  moved 
to  the  commodious  "New  Hall"  on  the  grounds  of 
the  Pennsylvania  Hospital,  they  carried  with  them 
twelve  thousand  volumes,  eighty  thousand  pamphlets, 
—  not  much  trouble  to  collect  these  in  a  State  which 
never  wearied  of  printing  them,  —  and  a  vast  array  of 
unsorted  manuscripts.  They  had  worked  very  quietly 
for  nearly  half  a  century,  but  they  had  not  worked  in 
vain. 

The  present  home  of  the  Pennsylvania  Historical 
Society  contrasts  pleasantly  with  the  simplicity,  not 
to  say  the  indigence,  of  its  youth.  Thrice  fortunate 
in  having  secured  the  fine  old  property  of  General 
Patterson  on  Locust  Street,  it  is  spared  the  evil  fate 
common  to  most  institutions,  —  the  inhabiting  of 
buildings  glaringly  new,  and  ostentatiously  appropri- 
ate. From  the  spacious,  beautiful  rooms,  with  their 
ineffaceable  air  of  elegance  and  hospitality,  may  be 
seen  the  leafy  garden,  narrower  than  of  yore,  but  in- 
expressibly welcome  to  the  tired  eyes  of  the  brick- 
dweller.  In  these  rooms  are  stored  away  more  than 
forty  thousand  books,  —  the  pamphlets  are  now  long 
past  being  counted,  —  and  a  number  of  interesting 
historical  relics,  from  Philadelphia's  first  charter, 
1691,  and  the  wampum  belt  presented  to  Penn  by 
the  Indians,  to  "Poor  Richard's"  Almanacs,  and  the 


DEPRESSION  335 

log-book  and  telescope  of  Dr.  Kane.  Here,  too,  is 
the  charming  portrait  of  young  William  Penn  in  the 
days  of  his  martial  boyhood,  and  the  original  despatch 
which  brought  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Lexington, 
and  a  collection  of  nine  hundred  medals  of  Washing- 
ton,—  a  pleasant  tribute  to  fame,  —  and  Franklin's 
little  punch-keg  which  rolled  so  smoothly  from 
thirsty  guest  to  guest,  and  the  gold  and  white  china 
presented  to  the  philosopher  by  Madame  Helvetius, 
which  seems  to  have  suffered  no  scath  nor  mutilation 
at  the  hands  of  ravaging  housemaids.  Those  were  not 
days  when  cups  and  saucers  were  made  to  illustrate 
the  mutability  of  matter. 

In  1831  Stephen  Girard  died,  and  the  bulk  of  his 
estate  was  bequeathed  to  the  school  which  bears  his 
name.  The  millions  he  had  amassed  in  the  old  pros- 
perous days  of  foreign  traffic  made  him  the  Roths- 
child of  his  age.  He  was  known  to  be  the  richest 
man  in  the  United  States,  and  people  who  loved  to 
talk  about  other  men's  money  never  wearied  of  reck- 
oning up  his  fortune.  He  was  solitary,  austere, 
morose,  a  good  citizen,  a  just  master,  but  with  few 
associates,  and  fewer  friends.  He  was  childless,  his 
wife  was  mad,  he  lived  alone,  "  exchanging  no  offices 
of  courtesy  or  kindness  with  his  neighbours."  Yet 
in  that  dreadful  summer  when  Philadelphia  was  deso- 
lated by  the  yellow  fever,  and  afterwards,  when  chol- 
era swept  her  slums  free  of  their  miserable  inhabitants, 


336  PHILADELPHIA 

no  one  worked  harder  for  his  fellow  townsmen  than 
Stephen  Girard ;  no  one  gave  more  liberally  than  he, 
time,  money,  and  even  sympathy,  that  rarest  of  bene- 
factions from  a  millionnaire,  and  which  is  worth  more 
than  all  his  millions  multiplied.  Girard  was  not  by 
nature  kind;  his  was  no  bright,  broad,  genial  outlook 
on  the  world;  yet  there  is  not  lacking  evidence  to 
show  that  he  helped  again  and  again  where  help  was 
sorely  needed,  and  where  no  one  recognized  the 
helper's  hand.  Men  called  him  —  perhaps  with  truth 
—  an  atheist,  and  atheism  was  distinctly  unpopular 
in  the  city  which  religious  enthusiasm  had  founded 
and  sustained.  The  clause  in  his  will  which  forbade 
to  clergymen  of  any  creed  the  exercise  of  their  sacred 
functions  within  the  precincts  of  his  school,  and 
which  refused  them  even  the  common  privilege  of 
entering  it  as  visitors,  added  to  the  uncanniness  of 
his  reputation.  The  bequest  was  a  magnificent  one; 
but  why,  it  was  asked,  should  orphan  boys  be  denied 
the  ministrations  of  the  faith  which  was  their  birth- 
right? Why  should  this  cold  hostility  to  all  tenets 
and  dogmas  reach  from  the  grave  to  influence  the 
lives  of  little  children,  uprooted  by  indigence  from 
the  soil  of  home,  and  flung  into  the  broad,  bleak 
arms  of  systematic,  organized  charity? 

It  was  not  possible,  however,  to  disobey  or  to  ignore 
any  injunction  in  Stephen  Girard's  will.  No  man 
ever  knew  his  own  mind  more  accurately  than  he 


DEPRESSION 


337 


338  PHILADELPHIA 

did,  nor  left  more  minute  directions,  —  even  to  the 
vaulting  of  the  ceilings,  which  gave  forth  such  rever- 
berating echoes  that  they  had  to  be  covered  over 
before  master  or  boy  could  hear  each  other  speak  in 
the  schoolrooms.  The  only  matter  in  which  the 
directors  were  permitted  to  use  their  discretion  was 
the  study  of  the  classics.  "  I  do  not  forbid,  but  I  do 
not  recommend  the  Greek  and  Latin  Languages,"  is 
the  wording  of  the  will.  It  was  Girard  also  who 
applied  the  term  "  college  "  to  his  great  charity  school, 
which  is  not  a  college  in  the  correct  and  accepted  sense 
of  the  term.  The  lads  are  admitted  when  they  are  from 
six  to  ten  years  old,  and  under  no  circumstances  remain 
after  they  are  eighteen,  while  by  far  the  greater  num- 
ber leave  at  an  earlier  age.  They  are  taught  French 
and  Spanish,  —  which  were  especially  enjoined  by  the 
founder,  —  the  common  English  branches,  and  the  in- 
dustrial arts,  so  that  as  many  as  possible  may  learn  to 
labour  deftly  with  their  hands. 

It  is -difficult  to  do  justice  to  the  size  and  scope  of 
this  remarkable  institution.  The  trust  fund  for  its 
support  has,  through  the  careful  management  of  the 
directors,  increased  to  the  enormous  sum  of  fifteen  mil- 
lions. The  first  beautiful  building,  with  its  stately 
columns,  and  its  air  of  noble  simplicity,  has  been 
reinforced  by  thirteen  others,  all  pleasing  to  the  eye, 
and  all  admirably  constructed.  They  cover,  with  their 
lawns  and  playgrounds,  an  area  of  forty-one  acres ;  and 


DEPRESSION  339 

within  them  sixteen  hundred  boys  are  maintained  and 
educated,  forming  a  little  city  of  their  own ;  a  community 
hemmed  in  by  streets  and  houses,  yet  apart  from  the 
home  life  which  surrounds  them ;  bound  by  close  kin- 
ship to  toiling  women  and  men,  yet  remote  from  com- 
mon paths,  from  common  cares,  from  the  common 
pleasures  and  pains  that  make  up  the  ordinary,  every- 
day existence  of  Philadelphia's  equally  poor  but  less 
secluded  sons. 

The  year  that  followed  Girard's  death  was  fraught 
with  many  evils.  The  intense  and  unusual  heat  of 
the  summer  lent  a  deadly  malignity  to  the  cholera, 
which  by  this  time  had  returned  again  and  again  to 
exact  its  heavy  tolls.  So  great  was  the  mortality  - 
that,  in  the  narrow  Arch  Street  jail,  seventy  prisoners 
died  within  two  months;  and  every  evening,  strollers 
who  had  come  forth  to  breathe  a  little  air,  even  the 
stifling,  tainted  air  of  the  city  by-ways,  saw  the  corpses 
carried  from  the  prison  gates,  and  piled  in  the  waiting 
carts.  Then,  too,  the  hostile  attitude  of  President 
Jackson,  who  in  July  vetoed  the  bill  to  re-charter  the 
Bank  of  the  United  States,  awoke  bitter  but  futile 
resentment,  and  was  ominous  of  coming  calamity. 
Philadelphia's  banks  had  always  led  stormy  lives; 
but  she  had  hoped,  and  hoped  in  vain,  that  a  national 
institution,  well-ordered  and  beneficial,  might  win  more 
gentle  treatment.  Valiant  efforts  were  made  by  the 
directors  to  avert  the  threatened  destruction;  their 


340  PHILADELPHIA 

official  statements  were  pronounced  satisfactory,  and 
Mr.  Nicholas  Biddle,  the  bank's  president,  did  all 
that  lay  in  the  power  of  mortal  man  to  soften  the 
animosity  of  its  enemieSo  But  Jackson,  who  was  not 
easily  turned  from  a  set  purpose,  followed  up  his  veto 
by  removing  the  government  deposits.  Business  was 
paralyzed,  one  failure  followed  another,  and,  in  this 
desperate  emergency,  it  was  deemed  possible  to  re- 
incorporate  the  stock  in  a  state  institution,  which 
was  chartered  by  the  Pennsylvania  Legislature  in 
1836.  From  that  day  until  its  final  collapse  in  1840, 
distress  was  keen  and  ruin  imminent.  All  classes 
suffered  from  a  blow  that  was  aimed  at  all  alike. 
The  rich  lost  heavily  through  the  rapid  depreciation 
of  stocks,  the  poor  were  rendered  poorer  by  the  in- 
evitable reduction  of  wages.  It  was  a  melancholy 
period,  which  the  historian  is  glad  to  pass  swiftly 
and  lightly  by. 

One  incident  of  the  time  is  worth  narrating  for  the 
pleasant  illustration  it  affords  of  our  grandfathers' 
conservatism  and  piety.  Only  in  1830  did  Philadel- 
phia succeed  in  ridding  herself  of  the  chains  which 
churches  of  all  denominations  were  permitted  to  stretch 
across  the  streets  during  the  hours  of  service,  so  that 
neither  preacher  nor  congregation  should  be  disturbed 
by  passing  vehicles.  People  were  supposed  to  stay 
quietly  at  home,  or  to  sit  quietly  in  their  pews,  on 
the  Sabbath  day,  and  not  to  drive  profanely  through 


DEPRESSION 

i  *;:  i-''S/(^  *  *^'cv     -•••  •*%;•:• 


341 


"  THE   SILENT   CITY  " 

the  silent  city.  But  necessity  knows  no  Sunday,  and 
it  often  happened  that  the  doctor  speeding  to  his  pa- 
tients, the  engines  speeding  to  a  fire,  were  fatally  delayed 
by  these  barriers  which  forced  them  to  turn  aside  again 
and  again  before  their  destinations  could  be  reached. 
Even  the  driver  of  the  mail  protested  irreligiously 
against  such  devious  and  winding  ways,  and  a  strong 
effort  was  made  to  have  the  troublesome  impediments 
removed.  The  churches,  one  and  all,  wrestled  stoutly 
for  their  peculiar  privilege,  but  public  sentiment  mas- 
tered their  opposition.  The  chains  fell,  and  sleepy 
citizens,  dimly  conscious  of  Philadelphia's  progress, 
murmured  softly  like  the  obstinate  Galileo,  "Still  it 
moves ! " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

RIOTS 

LpOR  many  years  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love  had 
been  preeminent  for  the  bitterness  of  her  hos- 
tile factions,  and  for  the  unruly  behaviour  of  her 
mob.  The  populace  had  learned  its  lawless  lessons 
during  the  Revolution.  It  had  sincerely  enjoyed 
breaking  the  windows  of  Quaker  citizens,  or  raiding 
the  houses  of  Tories.  These  diversions  coming  to  a 
close  when  the  Republic  was  firmly  established, 
were  succeeded  by  other  and  no  less  lively  demon- 
strations. Genet's  heroic  sympathizers  had  threat- 
ened Washington  and  the  administration  with  open 
violence.  Labour  riots  had  become  more  and  more 
common,  as  times  grew  harder  and  harder.  The 
weavers  in  Kensington  defied  the  sheriff,  routed  the 
police,  and  destroyed  the  hated  machinery.  The 
volunteer  fire  companies,  "  brigand  firemen,"  as  Mr. 
Fisher  calls  them,  added  a  powerful  element  of  dis- 
order to  the  city  they  were  supposed  to  serve.  Rival 
companies  fought  desperately  for  the  possession  of 
plugs,  while  houses  burned  to  the  ground,  and 
favoured  thieves,  to  whom  the  firemen  had  granted 

342 


RIOTS  343 

their  patronage  and  protection,  pillaged  the  property 
of  all  that  could  be  swiftly  seized.  If  a  mob  fired 
a  building,  —  no  unusual  occurrence,  —  and  the  hose 
companies  sympathized  with  the  mob,  they  refused 
to  extinguish  the  flames.  If  their  sympathies  were 
on  the  other  side,  they  naturally  preferred  fighting 
their  opponents  to  bothering  about  the  conflagration, 
In  either  case,  householders  suffered,  and  so  power- 
ful had  these  ruffians  become,  so  influential  were 
they  in  city  politics,  that  no  man  dared  to  protest 
openly  against  their  evil  doing. 

The  anti-slavery  agitation,  which  grew  more  violent 
after  1830,  awoke  such  passionate  resentment  and 
opposition  in  the  hearts  of  the  masses  that  riot  fol- 
lowed riot.  Negroes  were  pelted  in  the  streets,  white 
men,  who  pleaded  their  cause,  were  pelted  on  the  plat- 
form. Houses  occupied  by  negroes  were  burned  to 
the  ground,  and  their  inmates  fled  in  abject  terror 
beyond  the  city  limits.  In  May,  1838,  the  Abolition- 
ists held  their  meetings  in  Pennsylvania  Hall,  on 
Sixth  Street,  and  many  prominent  agitators  denounced 
the  accumulated  evils  of  slavery.  Among  the  rest, 
John  Greenleaf  Whittier,  then  editing  the  Penn- 
sylvania Freeman,  read  a  poetical  address,  in  which 
he  rejoiced  —  prematurely  —  over  the  consecration  of 
the  hall  to  the  noble  cause  of  emancipation. 

"One  door  is  open,  and  one  temple  free, 
A  resting-place  for  hunted  Liberty." 


344 


PHILADELPHIA 


It  was  not  open  long.  Two  nights  later,  the  mob 
burned  it  to  the  ground,  and  Whittier,  disguised  in 
a  wig  and  a  white  overcoat, — like  the  detective  of 
melodrama,  —  watched  the  work  of  destruction,  and 
sighed  over  the  non-prophetic  character  of  his  verse. 


A.  NEGRO  ALLEY 


All  this  sustained  defiance  of  law  and  order  paved 
the  way  for  the  serious  riots  of  1844,  the  "Native 
American  Riots "  as  they  were  called,  because  they 
arose  from  the  clamorous  opposition  offered  by  the 
Native  American  Association  to  the  equally  vehe- 


BIOTS  345 

ment  demand  of  the  Roman  Catholics  that  children 
belonging  to  their  church  should,  when  attending 
religious  instruction  in  the  public  schools,  be  per- 
mitted tox  use  the  Douai  instead  of  the  King  James 
Bible.  This  controversy  being  well  established,  and 
a  consecrated  character  given  to  the  impending  strug- 
gle between  two  nationalities,  the  outbreak  began, 
as  most  outbreaks  do  begin,  through  the  inordinate 
desire  of  one  faction  to  hold  meetings  and  denounce 
their  opponents,  and  the  irresistible  impulse  of  the 
other  faction  to  break  up  the  meeting  with  brickbats. 
That  the  Native  Americans  should  have  selected  to 
gather  together  and  expound  their  views  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  Hibernia  Hose  Company,  showed 
either  a  readiness  for  the  strife,  or  a  painful  lack  of 
perspicuity»  The  habit,  long  acquired,  of  holding 
pitched  battles  over  disputed  fire-plugs  had  made 
mighty  fighters  of  all  the  volunteer  companies.  That 
the  Hibernians  should  have  sallied  forth  and  attacked 
the  meeting  evangelical,  was,  while  neither  wise  nor 
right,  hardly  a  matter  of  surprise  to  those  who  knew 
the  Irish  temperament,  and  the  pure  joy  it  feels  in 
breaking  heads.  A  lively  combat  ensued,  in  which 
guns  were  fired,  some  of  them  from  the  windows  of 
the  Hibernia  Hose  House,  many  people  were  injured, 
and  one  lad  killed.  At  seven  in  the  evening  the 
sheriff,  Mr.  Morton  McMichael,  arrived  on  the  scene, 
but  was  powerless  to  check  the  rioting,  which  grew 


346  PHILADELPHIA 

fiercer  and  fiercer  under  cover  of  the  darkness.  An 
attempt  was  made  by  the  Native  Americans  and  their 
upholders  to  burn  a  schoolhouse  occupied  by  the 
Sisters  of  Charity  and  their  pupils,  —  helpless  creat- 
ures who  had  been  guilty  of  no  violence,  and  who 
could  not  even  avoid  being  in  danger's  way.  They 
were  stanchly  defended,  however,  by  the  Irishmen ; 
and,  as  the  battle  deepened,  a  number  of  "innocent 
spectators,"  who  should  have  been  at  home,  were 
severely  wounded,  and  houses  tenanted  by  Roman 
Catholics  had  all  their  windows  broken. 

It  was  a  bad  night's  work.  Several  injured  men 
died  after  being  carried  to  the  hospital,  and  the  gen- 
eral excitement  was  fast  reaching  fever  heat.  The 
Native  Americans  held  another  meeting  the  follow- 
ing day,  passed  resolutions,  denounced  the  Catholics, 
and,  growing  angrier  and  angrier  under  the  spur  of 
their  own  eloquence,  marched  in  a  body  to  attack 
the  Hibernia  Hose  House.  The  Irishmen  were  there 
to  meet  them,  and  a  fierce  struggle  followed,  in  which 
six  of  the  invaders  were  killed.  They  succeeded  at 
length  in  firing  the  house,  and  the  flames  spread  with 
appalling  rapidity  to  all  the  neighbouring  properties. 
Alarm  was  given,  and  a  number  of  engines  came  to 
the  rescue ;  but  the  mob,  now  blind  with  fury,  and 
unable  to  distinguish  between  friend  and  foe,  refused 
to  allow  any  of  the  firemen  to  approach  the  burning 
buildings.  It  was  only  the  arrival  of  the  First 


RIOTS  347 

Brigade,  commanded  by  General  Cadwalader,  which 
calmed  their  emotions,  and  persuaded  them  to  sullenly 
disperse.  The  conflagration  was  checked,  but  not 
before  thirty  houses  and  the  old  "nanny-goat  mar- 
ket" were  reduced  to  smouldering  ruins. 

Up  to  this  point  there  had  been  little  to  choose 
between  the  lawlessness  of  either  faction.  Honours 
were  easy,  and  upon  all  shoulders  rested  the  burden 
of  blame.  But  the  passions  of  the  mob  had  been 
heated  to  danger-point,  and  it  was  pleased  to  side 
with  the  Native  Americans,  and  to  profess  the  same 
religious  enthusiasm  which  lent  zest  to  the  Gordon 
riots  in  London.  The  torch  has  ever  been  the  favourite 
weapon  of  the  populace,  and  it  was  used  with  terrible 
efficacy  and  good-will.  The  Catholics  were  no  longer 
able  to  defend  their  property.  Bishop  Kenrick  issued 
a  manifesto,  entreating  and  commanding  them  to 
offer  no  violence  under  provocation,  but  to  trust  to 
the  protection  of  their  country's  laws.  The  struggle 
did  not  lie  now,  as  in  the  beginning,  between  the 
Native  American  Association  and  the  Irishmen,  but 
between  the  mob  and  the  military,  between  open 
outlawry  and  the  authority  of  the  State. 

One  day  of  quiet  lulled  the  city  into  a  false  sense 
of  security,  and  on  the  next,  a  maddened  crowd,  rising 
like  locusts  from  the  ground,  swept  through  the 
streets  of  Kensington,  and  at  broad  noon  applied  the 
torch  to  St.  Michael's  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and 


348  PHILADELPHIA 

to  the  schoolhouse,  the  "nunnery"  as  it  was  called, 
which  had  so  narrowly  escaped  destruction  three  days 
before.  Both  buildings  were  burned  to  the  ground, 
and  the  rioters  decided  to  prolong  the  entertainment 
by  firing  the  rectory  and  some  adjacent  houses.  They 
were  sincerely  anxious,  or  so  they  affirmed,  to  confine 
their  attentions  to  members  of  the  erring  creed;  but 
unluckily  the  flames  recognized  no  polemical  distinc- 
tions, and  spread  straight  on,  consuming  two  rows 
of  humble  residences,  and  filling  all  hearts  with  con- 
sternation and  dismay.  It  was  five  o'clock  before  the 
arrival  of  the  soldiers  dispersed  the  mob,  and  saved 
the  entire  quarter  from  destruction ;  and  in  the  mean- 
time another  body  of  rioters  had  gathered  in  front  of 
St.  Augustine's  Catholic  Church,  at  Fourth  and  Vine 
Streets.  This  was  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  far  from 
the  scene  of  the  previous  disturbances,  far  from  the 
offending  hose  company,  and  the  homes  of  the  Irish 
weavers.  The  City  Troop  was  stationed  near;  Phila- 
delphia's mayor  was  present  on  the  spot.  Apparently, 
mayor  and  military  were  alike  disregarded.  The  in- 
cendiaries broke  open  the  church,  and  set  it  on  fire. 
The  flames,  mounting  rapidly  and  without  hindrance, 
licked  the  roof  and  the  wooden  cupola,  surmounted 
by  a  gilded  cross.  When  this  cross  fell  crashing  to 
the  ground,  cheer  after  cheer  burst  from  the  throats 
of  the  surrounding  mob.  While  men  shrieked  their 
approval  and  delight,  the  City  Troop  rode  by  at  full 


RIOTS  349 

gallop,  their  brilliant  trappings  lit  by  the  glare  of 
the  conflagration.  The  rioters  defied  them  doggedly, 
and  went  on  with  their  work  of  destruction. 

Adjoining  the  church  was  the  schoolhouse.  It  had 
been  turned  into  a  hospital  during  the  dreadful  summer 
of  1832,  and  in  it  the  Sisters  of  Charity  had  nursed  the 
sick  and  dying  cholera  patients  through  those  long 
months  of  burning  heat  and  pestilence.  Now  it  was 
once  more  a  school,  and  contained  the  valuable  library 
of  the  Augustinian  priests.  There  were  over  a  thousand 
books,  many  of  them  rare  old  editions  of  the  classics, 
which  could  not  be  duplicated  in  the  United  States. 
The  mob  flung  these  books  out  of  the  windows,  kicked 
them  into  heaps,  and  made  bonfires  of  them  in  the  street. 
A  few  were  saved,  many  were  stolen,  before  the  flames 
spread  to  the  schoolhouse,  and  consumed  all  the  rest  in 
one  swift,  hopeless  destruction.  By  morning  nothing 
was  left  save  a  mass  of  ruins,  and  the  blackened  walls 
of  the  church,  on  one  of  which,  high  over  the  spot 
where  the  desecrated  altar  had  stood,  might  still  be 
deciphered  the  prophetic  words,  "  The  Lord  Seeth." 
Men  looked  at  them  and  wondered,  as  they  look  to-day 
at  the  dim  figure  of  Christ  with  outstretched  arms,  which, 
whitewashed  rudely  over  by  Moslem  hands,  still  stands 
faintly  but  ineffaceably  portrayed  above  the  apse  of 
St.  Sophia. 

The  city  began  to  realize  the  gravity  of  the  situation, 
and  the  extent  of  its  own  danger.  Mayor  Scott  called 


350  PHILADELPHIA 

a  meeting,  enrolled  a  number  of  citizens  in  the  "  peace 
police,"  and  divided  them  into  patrols  for  the  protection 
of  life  and  property.  Bishop  Kenrick  ordered  all  Catho- 
lic churches  to  be  closed  the  following  Sunday,  lest 
fresh  provocation  should  lead  to  fresh  disorder  ;  and  for 
the  first  time,  since  the  early  history  of  Philadelphia, 
men  stayed  in  their  homes  because  they  dared  not  as- 
semble for  service.  St.  John's,  then  the  Catholic  cathe- 
dral, and  St.  Mary's  had  both  been  threatened  by  hostile 
mobs ;  and  St.  John's  had  been  saved  from  the  torch  by 
the  timely  appearance  of  General  Cadwalader,  who  found 
the  rioters  ready  for  their  work,  and  gave  them  five 
minutes  in  which  to  disperse.  So  great,  however,  was 
the  feeling  of  insecurity,  so  menacing  the  attitude  of 
the  populace,  that  the  sacred  vessels  and  the  vestments 
were  removed  from  the  churches,  and  concealed  in 
private  houses.  Even  the  Catholic  orphans  were  not 
permitted  to  remain  in  the  asylums  which  no  longer 
afforded  them  a  safe  shelter. 

The  grand  jury,  then  in  session,  presented  a  long  and 
feeble  statement,  "  regretted  "  the  extent  of  the  violence, 
intimated  that  it  was  really  time  the  disturbances  should 
cease,  and  charged  the  beginning  of  the  outbreak  to  "  the 
efforts  of  a  portion  of  the  community  to  exclude  the 
Bible  from  the  public  schools";  —  hardly  a  fair  asser- 
tion, inasmuch  as  the  Douai  version  of  the  Scriptures, 
while  less  beautiful  as  English  literature  than  the  trans- 
lation authorized  by  King  James,  is  still  "  the  Bible," 


INTERIOR   OF   ROMAN   CATHOLIC   CATHEDRAL 


RIOTS  351 

and  to  read  it  is  not  to  exclude  Holy  Writ  from  edu« 
cation.  Nevertheless  a  sentiment  prevailed  that  the 
street  riots  were  in  some  sort  religious  and  devotional, 
a  nineteenth  century  crusade,  unduly  zealous  perhaps, 
but  stimulated  —  like  the  Gordon  riots  —  by  pious  fer- 
vour. The  Native  American  Association  grew  rapidly 
from  a  few  hundreds  to  many  thousands  ;  and,  conscious 
of  its  own  strength  and  of  the  weakness  of  its  opponents, 
it  prepared  for  a  grand  demonstration  on  the  Fourth 
of  July,  a  demonstration  which  should  effectually  but 
peacefully  reveal  its  imposing  size  and  majesty. 

For  provoking  quarrels  and  for  disseminating  conta- 
gion, nothing  is  so  preeminently  successful  as  a  parade. 
The  Catholics  were,  indeed,  more  impressed  than  was 
altogether  desirable  by  the  mighty  preparations  for  the 
Fourth.  They  were  thoroughly  alarmed  for  the  safety 
of  their  churches,  and  the  congregation  of  St.  Philip 
Neri's  applied  to  the  arsenal  for  arms,  with  which  a 
volunteer  company  under  a  commissioned  officer  could 
protect  the  property,  if  attacked.  Twenty-five  muskets 
were  furnished  on  an  order  from  Governor  Porter. 
These  were  never  used,  because  no  assault  was  made  on 
the  day  of  the  great  procession ;  but  when  it  was  gener- 
ally known  that  guns  and  powder  had  been  stored  in 
the  church,  a  strong  feeling  of  hostility  was  aroused. 
If  people  were  to  be  permitted  to  defend  their  posses- 
sions after  this  martial  fashion,  there  would  be  an  end 
to  all  the  pleasant  pastimes  of  the  last  fortnight.  The 


352  PHILADELPHIA 

sheriff  accordingly  removed  the  objectionable  arms  the 
following  morning,  but  the  excitement  did  not  subside  ; 
and,  on  the  sixth  of  July,  the  slow  gathering  of  the  mob, 
which  grew  denser  and  denser  as  night  approached,  gave 
ominous  warning  of  the  trouble  still  to  come.  General 
Cadwalader,  who  by  this  time  had  grown  pardonably 
weary  of  the  populace  and  its  diversions,  strove  hard  to 
clear  the  streets ;  and  the  soldiers,  though  taunted  and 
insulted  by  the  rioters,  succeeded  by  midnight  in  dis- 
persing them  for  a  few  hours,  —  the  lull  before  the 
storm.  Day  had  not  dawned  before  they  were  back 
again,  sullen,  resolute,  ripe  for  any  form  of  violence,  a 
force  not  easily  reckoned  with  nor  subdued.  In  a  few 
hours  they  had  broken  the  windows  and  battered  down 
the  door  of  St.  Philip  Neri's,  forced  the  militia  who  were 
guarding  it  to  withdraw,  and  established  themselves 
triumphantly  in  the  church,  as  in  a  fortress  that  had 
been  carried  by  storm. 

Once  more  General  Cadwalader  prepared  to  dislodge 
them,  and  this  time  he  realized  the  nature  of  the 
impending  strife.  The  troops  were  ordered  to  clear 
Queen  Street.  It  was  no  facile  task.  The  mob,  well- 
armed,  and  well  supplied  with  ammunition,  fought 
fiercely  in  the  narrow  highways.  Through  the  long 
summer  afternoon,  and  far  into  the  night,  the  battle 
raged.  From  windows  and  from  pointed  roofs  the 
rioters  fired  down  upon  the  soldiers.  They  dragged 
three  cannons  from  a  ship  lying  at  the  wharf,  loaded 


EIOTS 


353 


OLD  MARKET-PL  AC  B 


them  with  bolts,  chains  and  spikes,  and  discharged  them 
again  and  again,  the  result  being  as  fatal  to  the  crowd 
as  to  their  opponents.  They  stretched  ropes  across  the 
darkening  streets  to  obstruct  the  passage  of  the  cavalry. 
It  was  picturesque,  and  exceedingly  like  Perugia  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  when  the  Baglioni  and  their  rivals  fought 
in  the  great  square  of  the  Cathedral ;  but  it  was  not 
at  all  like  Penn's  City  of  Peace,  which  he  had  founded 
as  an  asylum  for  the  oppressed,  where  no  sword  was  to 
be  drawn,  and  no  man  persecuted  for  his  creed. 

The   soldiers,  hemmed  in  on  every  side,  were  well- 
nigh  exhausted.     They  also  had  two  cannons,  brought 

2A 


354  PHILADELPHIA 

from  the  battery  at  Second  and  Queen  Streets;  but 
their  ammunition  was  nearly  gone  when  the  arrival  of 
the  First  State  Troop  forced  the  mob  to  give  way. 
By  midnight  the  firing  ceased,  and  by  dawn,  twenty- 
four  hours  after  the  rioters  had  assembled  in  front  of 
St.  Philip's  Church,  the  streets  were  clear,  and  peace 
restored  to  Philadelphia.  Only  the  wounded  and  the 
dead  were  left  to  tell  the  price  she  paid. 

This  was  the  last  mad  outbreak  of  the  populace. 
Governor  Porter,  now  fully  awake  to  .the  public 
peril,  called  together  all  the  troops  that  could  be 
spared  from  Pennsylvania's  more  tranquil  towns,  and 
the  presence  of  five  thousand  soldiers  calmed  the  angry 
passions,  and  chilled  the  religious  enthusiasm  of  the 
mob.  Nor  had  the  city  learned  her  lesson  without 
profit  therefrom.  It  was  clearly  evident  that  the  old 
system  of  boroughs  and  townships  no  longer  afforded 
a  safe  or  strong  municipal  government,  and  that  some 
closer  bond  was  necessary  to  draw  together  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  one  great  whole,  and  unite  them  in  a 
single  corporation.  In  1849  a  meeting  of  prominent 
citizens,  under  the  leadership  of  Eli  K.  Price,  began 
the  work  of  reform,  which  was  so  successfully  con- 
cluded by  the  Consolidation  Act  of  1854.  Philadel- 
phia, instead  of  being  divided  and  subdivided  in  a 
fashion  which  lent  itself  to  perpetual  strife  and  a  dan- 
gerous weakening  of  responsibility,  became  one  united, 
consolidated  city.  The  pernicious  system  of  taxation, 


RIOTS  355 

which  was  all  cost  and  no  returns,  disappeared  in  favour 
of  more  practical  methods.  The  volunteer  fire  compa- 
nies were  shorn  of  their  political  power,  compelled  to 
modify  their  methods,  and  finally  abolished  altogether, 
when  many  dry  eyes  witnessed  their  departure.  The 
police  corps  was  reorganized,  and  bands  of  ruffians,  like 
the  "  Bouncers "  and  the  "  Schuylkill  Rangers,"'  no 
longer  found  themselves  at  liberty  to  terrorize  one  dis- 
trict, and  retreat  safely  to  another,  where  the  arm  of  the 
law  could  not  reach  them.  The  common  schools  were 
securely  established,  and  education  took  a  great  leap 
forward,  —  a  leap  in  the  dark,  said  the  discontented, 
but  anything  seemed  better  than  standing  perfectly  still. 
In  fact,  the  city  had  grown  weary  of  immobility ;  weary 
of  the  torpor  which  had  bound  her  for  the  past  forty 
years,  and  had  reduced  her  to  a  dead  level  of  mediocrity; 
weary  of  narrow  ways,  of  insignificance,  and  provincial- 
ism. New  life  was  tingling  in  her  veins,  new  hopes  and 
fears  were  beating  in  her  heart.  Already  the  shadow 
of  strife  was  darkening  over  the  land,  and  drowsy 
Philadelphia  awoke  to  play  her  part  in  the  coming 
struggle.  The  voice  to  which  she  had  ever  responded 
had  been  the  voice  of  war. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   CIVIL   WAR 

TT  is  the  irony  of  fate  that  the  province  Penn 
founded  to  be  the  home  of  peace  should  have 
gained  distinction  as  a  fighting  state.  He  had  planned 
a  refuge  from  the  din  of  contention,  the  wickedness 
of  bloodshed ;  and  the  colony  he  loved  cast  aside  the 
traditions  which  had  nourished  her.  Pennsylvania, 
as  Mr.  Sydney  Fisher  observes,  has,  in  the  course  of 
her  history,  "  produced  more  distinguished  military 
men,  manufactured  more  war  material,  and  had  more 
important  battles  in  more  different  wars  fought  on 
her  soil,  than  any  other  State  in  the  Union."  It  is 
the  old  story  of  destiny  and  the  plough  overturning 
the  plans  of  men  and  mice. 

Theoretically,  Philadelphia  had  always  been  opposed 
to  slavery.  Germantown  protested  against  the  hold- 
ing of  slaves  in  Penn's  lifetime,  when  the  custom  was 
universal.  The  Friends  had  ceaselessly  combated 
what  they  believed  to  be  a  deadly  evil ;  and  the  keen 
desire  of  the  southern  congressmen  to  remove  the 
seat  of  government  to  Washington  arose  from  a  not 
unnatural  anxiety  to  escape  the  endless  protests  of 

356 


THE  CIVIL   WAR  357 

the  Quaker  Abolitionists.  It  is  true  that  the  populace, 
largely  composed  of  foreign  elements*  grew  more  and 
more  hostile  to  the  anti-slavery  agitators,  until  its 
anger  culminated  in  negro  riots,  and  the  burning  of 
Pennsylvania  Hall.  But  Philadelphia  and  Philadel- 
phia's mob  were  never  in  accord.  It  is  true  also  that 
the  city's  trade  was  largely  with  the  South,  that  she 
had  always  been  on  terms  of  especial  friendship  with 
southern  towns  and  states,  and  that  she  was  unwilling 
to  ^ee  this  cordial  understanding  weakened,  and  her 
commerce  injured,  by  reckless  agitation  on  the  part 
of  those  who  had  no  interests  at  stake.  The  abolition 
movement  had  never  wholly  won  her  favour,  and, 
though  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  little  more  to 
her  liking,  she  strove  for  years  to  enforce  it,  to  keep 
faith  with  her  neighbours,  and  to  respect  their  legal 
rights.  It  was  a  conflict  of  emotions,  the  end  of 
which  might  have  been  easily  foreseen  by  those  who 
witnessed  the  joyous  welcome  given  to  Abraham 
Lincoln  before  his  inauguration,  and  the  enthusiasm 
evoked  when  the  President-elect  raised  the  new  flag 
with  its  thirty-four  stars  —  the  last  star  for  the  recently 
adopted  state  of  Kansas  —  over  the  roof  of  Indepen- 
dence Hall.  The  lessons  taught  by  those  historic 
walls  had  not  been  learned  in  vain.  Philadelphia 
may  have  regarded  with  cold  aversion  the  New  Eng- 
land orators  who  stirred  the  animosity  she  was  most 
anxious  to  allay ;  but  there  was  neither  doubt  in  her 


358 


PHILADELPHIA 


mind  nor  hesitation  in  her  actions  when  the  safety 
of  the  Union  was  imperilled.  Of  speeches  in  the 
market-place  she  had  grown  weary  and  mistrustful; 


"  OVER  THE  ROOF  OF  INDEPENDENCE  HALL " 

but,  if  the  call  came,  she  was  ready  as  of  old  to  argue 
the  matter  stolidly  in  platoons. 

The  call  did  come  with  the  attack  on  Fort  Sumter, 
and  with  the  President's  demand  for  seventy-five 
thousand  volunteers  to  quell  the  rebellion.  The  first 


THE  CIVIL    WAR  359 

State  to  respond  was  Quaker  Pennsylvania,  the  first 
soldiers  sent  to  Washington  were  five  companies  of 
Pennsylvania  militia,  under  the  command  of  General 
Robert  Patterson  and  General  William  Keim.  General 
Patterson  was  at  this  time  in  his  seventieth  year.  He 
had  served  in  the  war  of  1812,  and  in  the  war  with 
Mexico  ;  but  an  Irishman  from  county  Tyrone  is  sel- 
dom too  old  to  fight,  and  General  Scott,  then  command- 
ing the  United  States  army,  entrusted  to  the  care  of 
this  Philadelphia  veteran  the  "  Department  of  Wash- 
ington," and  the  protection  of  the  Capitol. 

Twenty-five  regiments  were  exacted  as  Pennsyl- 
vania's first  quota  of  men.  They  were  raised  immedi- 
ately, and  thirty  more  were  offered,  but,  at  the  time, 
refused.  The  Pennsylvania  Reserves  were  organized 
the  same  year  for  the  defence  of  the  State,  —  fifteen 
thousand  men,  serving  three  years,  and  holding  them- 
selves in  readiness  for  any  emergency.  The  emergency 
came  quick  enough  after  the  Confederate  victory  at 
Bull  Run.  The  President  instantly  called  the  Reserves 
to  Washington,  and  from  that  time  to  the  close  of  the 
struggle  they  fought  with  great  distinction,  never 
being  permitted  to  return  to  the  service  of  their 
State. 

Meanwhile  the  industries  of  war  changed  Philadel- 
phia into  a  great  hive,  where  men  and  women  toiled 
like  bees  to  manufacture  much  that  the  country  needed, 
and  needed  instantly.  In  the  arsenal,  men  laboured 


360  PHILADELPHIA 

day  and  night;  in  the  Southwark  Navy  Yard,  the  force 
was  gradually  increased  from  six  hundred  to  seventeen 
hundred,  and  yet  the  work  could  not  be  done  in  time. 
Cannons  were  cast  in  the  foundries,  thousands  of 
wagons  were  made  for  the  service  of  the  artillery  and 
of  the  commissariat.  Countless  throngs  of  women 
were  employed  in  cutting  out  and  sewing  the  blue- 
grey  uniforms  of  the  soldiers,  now  hastening  from 
every  township  in  the  State,  from  every  home  in  the 
city,  to  bear  their  parts  in  the  bloody  strife. 

Yet  even  while  Pennsylvania's  sons  went  forth  to 
join  the  ranks,  even  while  Meade,  McClellan,  Rey- 
nolds, and  many  more  were  heaping  up  honours  for 
her  name,  she  was,  none  the  less,  the  home  of  the 
"Copperhead,"  of  the  Democrat  whose  heart  was  not 
in  the  war,  and  who  ardently  desired  peace.  He  was 
a  force  to  be  reckoned  with,  an  opponent  not  easily 
subdued.  The  ceaseless  cry  for  more  men,  more  men, 
and  ever  more  men  to  fill  up  the  places  of  the 
dead;  the  terrible  carnage  in  each  succeeding  battle; 
the  overflowing  hospitals ;  the  desolate  homes ;  the 
flinging  away  of  human  lives  without  stint,  without 
mercy,  without  reckoning,  —  these  things  embittered 
the  soul  of  the  Copperhead,  and  lent  weight  to  his 
vehement  denunciations.  His  unwelcome  presence, 
his  unsilenced  tongue,  evoked  endless  complications ; 
not  the  least  of  which  was  the  deciding  where  free- 
dom of  speech  ended,  and  disloyalty  began.  This 


THE  CIVIL    WAR  361 

was  a  point  on  which  zealous  patriots  and  conserva- 
tive lawyers  naturally  failed  to  agree.  Judge  Cad- 
walader  and  his  brothers  on  the  bench  were  kept 
busy  defining  the  exact  nature  of  treason  and  mis- 
prision  of  treason ;  but  their  verdicts  awakened  little 
enthusiasm  in  the  hearts  of  jurymen  or  the  crowd. 
If  a  man  sold  firearms  to  the  Confederates,  that  was 
treasonable,  and  he  could  —  when  caught  —  be  promptly 
punished.  But  the  editor  of  an  evening  paper  might 
disparage  President  Lincoln,  and  praise  President 
Davis,  and  the  angry  people  were  told  this  was  the 
privilege  of  citizenship.  They  called  it  treason,  though 
the  judges  wouldn't,  and  they  broke  windows  and  bat- 
tered doors  to  emphasize  their  opinions ;  demanding 
indignantly,  when  arrested,  if  traitors  were  to  be  cod- 
dled, and  loyal  men  punished,  in  the  City  of  Brotherly 
Love. 

When,  in  the  summer  of  1863,  came  the  news  of 
General  Lee's  advance  to  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  the 
wildest  excitement  reigned  throughout  the  Middle 
States,  and  centred  itself  in  Philadelphia.  Once 
more  was  heard  the  oft-repeated  call  for  volunteers. 
A  hundred  thousand  men  the  President  demanded,  to 
meet  this  sudden  danger,  and  half  of  them  were  to  be 
raised  in  Pennsylvania.  The  harvests  were  ripening 
with  few  hands  to  reap  them ;  the  dead  lay  uncounted 
in  the  trenches  of  every  battlefield ;  but  there  was 
no  holding  back  when  the  summons  came.  Governor 


362  PHILADELPHIA 

Curtin  issued  his  proclamation,  asking  for  soldiers  to 
defend  the  State,  and  young  and  old  responded  swiftly 
to  the  appeal.  Councils  granted  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  home  defences,  and  all  Philadelphia  citizens, 
exempt  from  active  service,  were  bidden  to  enlist  in  a 
corps  organized  for  the  protection  of  the  town.  The 
ordinary  business  of  life  stood  still.  Shops  were 
closed,  and  anxious  crowds  thronged  Chestnut  Street, 
and  pressed  about  the  State  House,  eager  for  tidings, 
yet  fearful  lest  it  should  be  evil  tidings  that  they 
heard,  lest  word  should  come  that  Lee  was  even  then 
advancing  into  the  heart  of  Pennsylvania,  and  would 
stand  at  the  city's  doors. 

General  George  G.  Meade  was  at  this  time  in  com- 
mand of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  whose  leaders  had 
succeeded  each  other  with  bewildering  and  dishearten- 
ing rapidity.  The  battle  that  decided  the  fortunes  of 
the  State  was  fought  at  Gettysburg  on  the  first,  second, 
and  third  of  July;  a  pitiless,  glorious  battle,  where 
both  armies  contended  with  desperate  valour  for  three 
awful  days,  and  where  the  loss  of  life  was  too  appall- 
ing to  be  calmly  considered.  In  Philadelphia,  wild 
and  contradictory  rumours  filled  all  hearts  with  sus- 
pense until  the  morning  of  the  fifth,  when  Meade's 
official  despatches  announced  that  Lee's  advance  had 
been  checked;  and,  immediately  after,  the  sick  and 
wounded  came  pouring  into  the  city.  General  Han- 
cock, with  a  shattered  leg,  and  five  hundred  unfortunate 


CHESTNUT    STREET 


THE  CIVIL   WAR  363 

companions  arrived  on  the  fifth,  and,  by  the  twelfth, 
over  four  thousand  injured  soldiers  lay  in  our  hospitals, 
bearing  witness  to  the  cost  of  deliverance.  Three 
thousand  Confederate  prisoners  were  at  the  same  time 
carried  to  Fort  Delaware.  It  was  not  easy  to  rejoice 
with  so  much  suffering  on  every  side,  and  when  the 
long  lists  of  the  dead  carried  mourning  to  countless 
homes. 

The  news  of  the  capture  of  Vicksburg  by  General 
Grant  pointed  clearly  to  the  end  of  the  unequal 
combat,  and  men  began  to  ask  themselves  how  much 
longer  these  ragged,  unpaid,  undaunted  southern 
soldiers  intended  to  hold  out  against  fate.  The  fee- 
ble resources  of  the  South  were  waning  fast;  those 
of  the  North  were  practically  inexhaustible.  Im- 
mediately after  the  battles  of  Gettysburg  and 
Vicksburg,  President  Lincoln  issued  a  proclamation, 
demanding  three  hundred  thousand  men  to  serve 
three  years.  They  were  to  be  raised  by  conscription, 
for  it  was  no  longer  an  easy  task  to  find  that  num- 
ber of  volunteers ;  and,  by  the  middle  of  July,  the 
drafting  —  bitter  work  —  began  in  Philadelphia.  Be- 
fore seven  months  had  passed,  two  hundred  thousand 
more  men  were  needed  to  fill  the  gaps  made  by  Grant's 
bloody  conquests.  In  these  two  conscriptions,  Phila- 
delphia's quota  was  thirteen  thousand  men;  yet  she 
stood  stanchly  by  her  Republican  governor,  and  by 
the  great  Republican  President,  though  General 


364  PHILADELPHIA 

McClellan  was  deeply  beloved  in  the  city  of  his 
birth,  and  the  anger  aroused  when  he  was  superseded 
in  command  by  General  Burnside  added  immeasura- 
bly to  the  strength  of  the  Copperheads,  and  to  the 
disquiet  of  the  whole  population.  The  emancipation 
of  the  slaves  had  been  gladly  welcomed,  even  by  the 
majority  of  the  Democrats,  and  all  classes  united  in 
one  great  effort  to  soften  the  sufferings  of  the 
wounded  soldiers,  whose  numbers  had  now  risen  to 
dreadful  proportions,  notwithstanding  the  ceaseless 
thinning  of  their  ranks  by  fever. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  war,  Philadelphia  had 
taxed  her  energies  to  the  utmost  in  the  unceasing 
effort  to  provide  accommodation  for  the  sick  and 
injured.  After  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run,  seven- 
teen hundred  of  these  unfortunates  arrived  within 
twenty-four  hours;  and,  after  Grant's  battles  in  Vir- 
ginia, five  thousand  were  sent  in  an  incredibly 
short  time  from  the  South,  to  be  crowded  into  the 
already  overflowing  hospitals.  It  was  well-nigh  im- 
possible to  obtain  trained  and  competent  nurses ;  and 
the  city  gladly  accepted  the  aid  offered  by  the  Sisters 
of  Charity,  at  whose  head  was  a  woman  of  singular 
capacity  and  strength  of  character,  Sister  Gonzaga, 
well  known  for  the  work  she  did  during  those  try- 
ing years.  In  the  summer  of  1864  the  great  Sani- 
tary Fair  was  opened  in  Logan  Square,  where  a 
number  of  buildings  had  been  hastily  erected  for  the 


THE  CIVIL   WAR  365 

purpose.  It  was  like  a  little  "  World's  Fair,"  brilliant, 
beautiful,  varied,  —  everything  but  gay,  —  gayety  being 
hard  to  grasp  after  more  than  three  years  of  civil  war. 
President  Lincoln  came  from  Washington  to  do  it 
honour,  and  the  proceeds,  amounting  to  over  a  million 
of  dollars,  were  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  hospital 
supplies  for  the  wounded  soldiers  in  Pennsylvania, 
New  Jersey  and  Delaware. 

In  December,  1864,  there  was  still  another  call  for 
three  hundred  thousand  men,  and  the  proclamation 
of  the  President  allowed  less  than  four  weeks  for 
the  drafting  of  this  new  army,  to  which  Philadelphia's 
'contribution  was  eleven  thousand,  five  hundred  sol- 
diers. It  was,  however,  the  last  conscription  of  the 
war.  The  South  lay  devastated,  drained  of  every  re- 
source, without  money,  without  food,  without  ammu- 
nition. Boys  of  fifteen  and  old  grey-haired  men  were 
fighting  in  her  enfeebled  ranks.  The  fertile  lands 
were  barren  of  their  harvests,  and,  in  the  broad  track 
of  Sherman's  destroying  army,  women  and  children 
starved  by  their  desolate  hearths.  The  end,  so  long 
deferred,  had  come  at  last;  and  on  the  tenth  of 
April,  1865,  word  was  carried  to  waiting  Philadelphia 
that  the  remnant  of  Lee's  forces,  a  pitiful  remnant 
of  twenty-six  thousand  men,  had  surrendered  to 
Grant,  and  that  the  war  was  over.  From  her  old 
State  House  roof  rang  out  the  joyful  tidings,  and 
every  heart  responded  with  rapture  to  the  message 


366  PHILADELPHIA 

of  the  bell.  The  war  was  over.  It  was  hard  to 
believe  the  truth,  hard  to  feel  sure  that  the  pitiless 
drafting  and  the  pitiless  slaughter  were  already 
things  of  the  past,  and  that  men  of  one  nation, 
brothers  of  one  parent  stem,  were  no  longer  march- 
ing to  kill  each  other  in  the  open  field.  Penn- 
sylvania had  sent  over  three  hundred  and  sixty-six 
thousand  of  her  sons  to  do  this  deadly  work.  One 
out  of  every  eight  inhabitants  —  a  ghastly  proportion 
—  had  gone  forth  to  fight.  What  wonder  that 
Pennsylvania's  great  city  should  draw  a  deep  breath 
of  relief  when  this  pressure  was  lifted  from  her 
heart!  Out  of  the  handful  of  soldiers  who  had  left 
the  State  during  the  war  with  Mexico,  only  one  half 
returned.  Out  of  the  vast  army  who  departed  for 
the  Civil  War,  so  many  perished  that  the  universal 
joy  was  subdued  by  almost  universal  mourning. 

The  news  of  President  Lincoln's  assassination  came 
like  a  bolt  from  the  blue,  and  turned  the  public  content 
into  sorrow  and  ominous  gloom.  His  body  was  brought 
to  Philadelphia  on  the  twenty-second  of  April,  and  lay  in 
state  for  two  days  in  Independence  Hall,  where  four  years 
before  he  had  raised  the  new  flag  amid  the  joyous  en- 
thusiasm of  the  crowd.  Now  the  people  came  in  thou- 
sands to  gaze  sadly  at  his  bier,  and  thousands  more  were 
turned  from  the  doors  when  the  two  short  days  were 
over.  It  was  a  tragic  ending  to  the  story  of  the  war, 
and  it  robbed  peace  of  its  gladness  and  its  triumph. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE  QUAKER   CITY   OF   TO-DAY 

HHHE  great  wave  of  emotion  which  swept  over  the 
"  country  with  the  strife  which  rent  her  apart,  and 
with  the  slow  reconciliation  which  bound  her  once  more 
in  unity,  left  its  traces  upon  national  life.  War,  the  stern 
foster-mother  of  arts  and  letters,  wakened  the  dormant 
spirit  of  the  people,  who  responded,  as  all  people  do 
respond,  to  impulses  borne  of  that  strange  quickening 
discord.  Even  to  the  South,  bearing  its  heavy  burden 
of  humiliation  and  distress,  came  the  thrill  of  this  tin- 
gling renaissance,  while  the  North  and  West  sprang 
forward  with  giant  bounds.  Philadelphia,  roused  thor- 

367 


368  PHILADELPHIA 

oughly  from  her  long  sleep,  felt  no  disposition  to  drowse 
again.  The  nation  was  fast  approaching  her  hundredth 
birthday.  She  was 

"  growing  a  great  girl  now," 

as  Father  Punch  genially  observed,  and  it  was  but  fitting 
that  the  town  which  had  the  honour  of  being  her  birth- 
place should  joyously  celebrate  this  auspicious  anniver- 
sary. The  Centennial  Exhibition  has  been  so  far 
surpassed  by  the  glories  of  Chicago's  exhibition  that 
people  speak  of  it  now  with  patronizing  kindness,  as  of 
something  well-meant,  but  indifferently  executed.  It  is 
a  point  of  honour  for  each  world's  fair  to  eclipse  the 
fair  before  it ;  and  when  a  summit  of  splendour  is 
reached  which  cannot  be  outclimbed,  the  diversion  must 
come  to  an  end,  and  even  Paris  find  another  plaything. 
Philadelphia,  always  a  pioneer,  has  been  almost  always 
excelled  by  those  who  followed  in  her  footsteps.  She 
it  was,  among  American  cities,  who  printed  the  first 
daily  newspaper,  and  the  first  magazine.  She  established 
the  first  circulating  library,  the  first  corporate  bank, 
and  the  first  medical  college.  She  laid  the  keel  of  the 
first  American  warship,  and  unfurled  the  first  American 
flag.  She  was  the  home  of  the  first  National  Congress, 
and  of  the  first  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States. 
Finally,  she  organized  the  first  World's  Fair  that  this 
country  had  ever  seen,  —  no  facile  task,  as  those  who 
bore  a  part  in  it  can  testify. 


THE  QUAKER  CITY  OF  TO-DAY  369 

Perhaps  the  most  cheering  token  that  the  Fair  was  at 
least  a  possibility  lay  in  the  success  of  the  Franklin  In- 
stitute, which  in  1874  gave  a  very  brilliant  exhibition 
of  the  mechanical  arts.  But  the  difficulties  in  the  path 
of  the  vaster  enterprise  were  well-nigh  insurmountable. 
Lack  of  money,  lack  of  precedent,  lack  of  knowledge, 
lack  of  skill,  held  back  the  eager  hands.  The  national 
government  promptly  and  firmly  declined  to  grant  any 
assistance,  save  the  cost  of  its  own  exhibits,  and  a  loan 
of  one  million,  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  which 
was  repaid  in  full  to  the  treasury  when  the  Fair  was 
closed.  The  city  did  not  lend,  but  gave  a  similar  sum 
for  the  erection  of  Machinery  Hall,  and  the  highly 
ornate  Horticultural  Hall,  which  commended  itself  to 
the  taste  of  those  who  liked  plenty  of  colour  for  their 
money.  The  State  of  Pennsylvania  appropriated  one 
million  of  dollars,  which  were  ruthlessly  expended  upon 
Memorial  Hall,  a  squat,  clumsy  building,  sadly  destitute 
of  distinction  or  beauty,  and  which  stands  to-day  in 
Fairmount  Park,  an  abiding  but  unnecessary  proof  of 
our  boundless  waste,  and  limited  artistic  development. 
All  the  other  expenses  were  borne  by  the  board  of 
finance  which,  under  the  able  leadership  of  Mr.  John 
Welsh,  struggled  and  struggled  successfully  to  raise  the 
necessary  funds. 

Of  the  interest  aroused  by  the  Fair,  of  the  wonder 
it  excited,  and  of  the  impetus  it  gave,  not  to  Penn- 
sylvania alone,  but  to  the  whole  nation,  it  is  unne- 

2B 


370  PHILADELPHIA 

cessary  to  speak.  Nature,  indeed,  with  that  grim 
humour  which  is  so  scantily  appreciated  by  her  vic- 
tims, exerted  herself  to  play  a  part  in  the  festivities ; 
and  provided  a  season  of  such  sustained  and  unprece- 
dented heat  that  Philadelphia's  reputation  as  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  tropics  was  forever  established  in  the  land. 
From  the  tenth  of  May,  when  the  Exhibition  opened, 
to  the  tenth  of  November,  when  it  closed,  there  was 
little  escape  from  this  baleful  temperature;  and,  in 
the  summer  days,  the  thermometer  under  the  spread- 
ing trees  of  the  Park,  or  in  the  shaded  city  streets, 
ranged  from  ninety  to  one  hundred  and  two  degrees, 
with  a  persistence  which  cost  many  lives,  and  can 
never  be  forgotten  by  the  survivors.  Well  did  they 
realize  in  those  dreadful  months  the  meaning  of 
Penn's  proud  assertion  that  his  province  lay  "six 
hundred  miles  nearer  the  sun  "  than  England. 

One  of  the  immediate  results  of  the  Exhibition  was 
the  arousing  of  a  patriotic  interest  in  centenaries, 
which  came  thick  and  fast,  and  afforded  plenty  of 
opportunities  for  demonstrations.  In  1882  Philadel- 
phia celebrated  the  two  hundredth  anniversary  of 
her  Founder's  arrival.  A  little  ship  resembling  the 
Welcome  was  towed  to  the  Dock  Street  wharf  on  the 
morning  of  October  24th,  and  William  Penn's  repre- 
sentative, stepping  ashore,  was  duly  welcomed,  and 
compelled  to  play  his  part  in  a  merciless  civic  pro- 
cession which  took  four  hours  to  pass  a  given  point, 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  371 

and  was  as  hopelessly  uninteresting  as  only  a  civic 
procession  can  be.  A  nation  without  an  army  is  — 
unless  she  wastes  her  money  in  less  useful  and  hon- 
ourable fashion  —  greatly  to  be  envied  on  the  score 
of  economy;  but  her  parades  are  seldom  things  of 
beauty.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  the  Quaker  City  has 
ever  dearly  loved  these  dismal  diversions.  She  will 
now  contentedly  see  her  traffic  stopped,  and  her  im- 
patient citizens  wedged  in  waiting  crowds,  while  hun- 
dreds of  policemen  and  firemen  walk  stolidly  and 
mournfully  through  the  streets,  the  effect  given 
being  that  of  a  gigantic  funeral.  At  the  bi-Centen- 
nial  there  were  four  whole  days  devoted  to  parades. 
Three  thousand  Knights  Templar,  twenty-four  thou- 
sand tradesmen  and  artisans,  and  many  companies  of 
militia  took  turns  in  honouring  the  memory  of  Penn, 
and  commemorating  his  journey  over  the  sea  to  the 
colony  he  founded  and  loved. 

In  1887  came  the  centenary  of  the  adoption  of  the 
National  Constitution,  and  three  days  were  given 
over  to  the  customary  celebrations.  One  hundred 
years  before,  when  the  States  wheeled  into  line  and 
accepted  the  code  of  laws  under  which  they  were  to 
live,  Philadelphia  expressed  her  joy  by  organizing 
the  first  great  industrial  procession  that  ever  marched 
through  her  streets,  a  procession  in  which  her  leading 
citizens  masqueraded  amiably  and  picturesquely  as 
cultivators  of  the  soil.  She  now  repeated  this  enter- 


372  PHILADELPHIA 

tainment  without  the  masqueraders,  but  on  such  a 
gigantic  scale  that  the  wagons  and  floats  took  seven 
hours  to  pass  the  State  House,  and  imprisoned  spec- 
tators felt  the  glow  of  enthusiasm  slowly  chill  before 
the  pitiless  autocracy  of  hunger  and  fatigue. 

Meanwhile  the  progress  of  the  city  outstripped  the 
ambition  of  her  sons.  Burdened  by  municipal  blun- 
ders, tainted  by  municipal  corruption,  she  yet  pushed 
onward,  freeing  herself  now  and  then  from  some  of 
the  barnacles  that  clung,  and  still  cling,  about  her 
civic  skirts.  The  Bullitt  Bill,  as  the  new  charter 
was  called,  did  for  her  in  1885  what  the  Consolida- 
tion Act  did  in  1854,  —  cleared  and  simplified  the 
complicated  machinery  of  her  laws,  reduced  her 
twenty-five  departments  to  nine,  corrected  some  star- 
ing and  unabashed  abuses,  and  made  of  her  mayor  — 
hitherto  a  figurehead  —  a  very  important  and  authori- 
tative official,  upon  whose  fitness  or  unfitness  for  his 
post  depends  much  of  the  city's  weal.  The  enlarge- 
ment of  the  harbour,  the  deepening  of  the  river  bed, 
the  establishment  of  the  Bourse,  the  increase  of  manu- 
facturing interests,  the  building  of  many  ships  and 
many  locomotives, — sisters  and  brothers  of  progres- 
sion,—  all  have  abundantly  proved  the  power  of  the 
people  to  move  onward  in  certain  well-defined  direc- 
tions. Whatever  remains  —  and  there  is  much  re- 
maining—  of  inefficiency  and  faithlessness  in  office, 
of  discomforts  long  endured,  and  dangers  unaverted, 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  373 

is  due  to  that  curious,  apathetic  good-nature  which  all 
Americans  share  in  common,  and  of  which  Philadel- 
phians  have  no  more  than  their  even  allowance. 
Good-nature  is  a  dangerous  virtue  for  a  nation.  Our 
keen  sense  of  the  ridiculous  helps  us  to  endure  much 
that  should  never  be  endured;  and  the  easy  laugh 
with  which  an  American  citizen  recognizes  the  ras- 
cality of  the  men  whom  he  permits  to  rule  him,  is  a 
death-blow  to  the  reforms  which  are  essential  alike  to 
his  well-being  and  to  his  self-respect. 

The  artistic  growth  of  Philadelphia  has  been  a  fitful 
and  feverish  expansion.  When  she  lost  the  quiet  beauty, 
the  exquisite  sense  of  appropriateness  and  proportion 
which  lent  distinction  to  her  colonial  architecture,  she 
wandered  through  devious  paths,  now  clinging  desper- 
ately to  white  marble  and  Grecian  columns,  —  seeking 
safety  in  the  definite  and  ascertained,  —  now  giving  free 
scope  to  much  original  and  depressing  ugliness.  Squat, 
clumsy  buildings,  presenting  a  dead  level  of  hopeless, 
but  not  actively  offensive,  mediocrity,  gave  place  slowly 
to  more  ornate  structures,  which  revealed  both  the  riot- 
ous possibilities  of  unbridled  decoration,  and  an  almost 
superhuman  grasp  of  whatever  was  inherently  unfitted 
for  its  purpose.  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the 
tireless  ingenuity  with  which  an  architect  will  go  far 
out  of  his  way  to  illustrate  the  meretricious.  Only 
in  late  years  has  there  come  a  change,  and  new  men, 
masters  of  their  craft,  have  begun  to  adorn  the  old 


374  PHILADELPHIA 

Quaker  town  with  graceful  homes,  and  with  public 
edifices,  stately,  strong  and  simple,  harmonizing  as 
far  as  possible  with  their  surroundings,  and  reflect- 
ing that  fine  self-restraint  which  was  the  distinguish- 
ing characteristic  of  the  early  colony. 

It  must  ever  be  a  matter  for  regret  that  the  City  Hall, 
commonly  called  the  Public  Buildings,  should  represent 
the  most  hopeless  period  in  the  history  of  Philadelphia's 
architecture,  and  that  its  only  claim  to  distinction  should 
be  the  marvellous  manner  in  which  it  combines  bulk 
with  sterling  insignificance.  Size  alone,  we  are  brought 
up  to  believe,  insures  some  degree  of  majesty.  It  is  the 
bigness  of  the  Pyramids  which  overawes  the  puny  trav- 
eller in  Egypt.  But  the  City  Hall  is  very,  very  large. 
It  covers  a  wider  area  than  any  other  municipal  build- 
ing in  the  United  States.  It  is  four  hundred  and 
eighty-six  feet  long,  and  four  hundred  and  seventy 
feet  broad.  It  has  a  courtyard  two  hundred  feet 
square,  and  a  tower  five  hundred  and  ten  feet  high, 
as  tall  nearly  as  the  fair  white  shaft  in  Washington. 
It  ought  to  be  reasonably  impressive,  even  though  it 
were  not  beautiful.  Yet  the  only  effect  it  gives  is  that 
of  an  almost  squalid  paltriness.  The  dingy  and  mo- 
notonous fagade  refuses  resolutely  to  look  vast;  the 
tower  of  marble  and  lumpy  metal-work  is  equally 
determined  not  to  appear  its  proper  height.  The 
surmounting  statue  of  William  Penn  gives  to  the 
whole  a  final,  but  needless  touch  of  incongruity.  On 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  375 

every  side  the  decorations  are  either  mediocre  or  pain- 
fully grotesque;  and  in  murky  corridors,  that  look  as 
if  they  ought  to  lead  to  prisons  hidden  from  the  light 
of  day,  ugly  twisted  forms  writhe  in  unseemly  attitudes, 
as  though  struggling  to  escape  from  such  depressing 
and  melancholy  gloom.  The  thin  slabs  of  marble 
that  form  the  outer  skin  of  the  walls  have  crumbled 
here  and  there  in  premature  decay,  and  have  been 
replaced  by  fresh  ones,  the  startling  whiteness  of 
which,  contrasting  with  their  blackened  neighbours, 
gives  the  effect  of  a  great  patchwork  quilt.  New 
windows,  not  in  the  original  plan,  have  been  pierced 
where  least  expected,  but  where  —  presumably  —  the 
wretched  inmates  have  begged  for  light  and  air.  Of 
the  millions  expended  upon  this  monument  of  ineffi- 
ciency, and  of  the  length  of  years  it  must  stand  in  the 
very  heart  of  Philadelphia  to  bear  witness  against  the 
people  who  erected  it,  even  those  who  profess  a  truly 
American  unconcern  endeavour  not  to  think.  As  an 
illustration  of  what  can  be  accomplished  by  an  irrespon- 
sible building  commission,  the  City  Hall  is  not  without 
interest  nor  without  a  moral ;  but  if  Experience  be  the 
best  of  teachers,  she  asks  terribly  high  prices  for  her 
tutelage,  and  unambitious  citizens  are  wont  to  wish  that 
their  own  town  had  not  selected  to  take  such  an  expen- 
sive course  of  instruction. 

Yet  even  while  Philadelphia  was  learning  bitter  les- 
sons, she  was  also  acquiring  rich  gifts, — gifts,  artistic, 


376  PHILADELPHIA 

scientific,  educational,  which  were  to  enable  her  to  com- 
pete with  other  great  cities  in  the  race  for  all  that  makes 
life  pleasant,  and  of  value.  The  Pennsylvania  Academy 
of  the  Fine  Arts  is  the  oldest  institution  of  its  kind  in 
the  United  States.  Founded  and  chartered  in  1805, 
it  had  its  birth  in  still  earlier  days,  when  Charles 
Wilson  Peale  and  Guiseppe  Ceracchi  struggled  to 
maintain  their  school  of  painting  and  modelling,  and 
when  modest  exhibitions  were  held  in  the  State  House, 
exciting  scant  interest  in  the  community.  The  first 
Academy  building  stood  back  from  Chestnut  Street, 
with  a  courtyard  and  green  trees  between  its  portico 
and  the  grime  of  the  city's  highway.  Old  Philadel- 
phians  who  associate  it  lovingly  with  their  childhood's 
days  ;  who,  when  they  were  little  boys  and  girls,  walked 
round  and  round  the  group  of  "  Centaurs  and  Lapithse," 
trying  vainly  to  disentangle  the  combatants ;  who  stood, 
thrilling  with  terror,  before  West's  vast  canvas,  "  Death 
on  the  Pale  Horse,"  and  wakened  at  midnight  from 
awful  dreams  wherein  that  ghastly  rider  followed  them, 
cannot  well  criticise  the  merits  of  these  familiar  ob- 
jects. Perhaps  decorous  and  inartistic  citizens  were 
a  long  while  escaping  from  the  mental  attitude  which 
bade  them  cover  up  the  antique  casts  from  women's 
curious  eyes.  Perhaps  they  have  not  laid  it  wholly 
aside  even  now,  being  pardonably  perplexed  by  the 
contentiousness  of  their  many  teachers,  and  by  the  vari- 
ance in  the  lessons  taught. 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  377 

But  that  we  have  grown  in  knowledge  and  in  wealth 
since  those  primitive  days,  who  shall  be  found  to  ques- 
tion? The  little  white  edifice,  with  its  Ionic  columns 
and  its  graceful  air  of  detachment,  has  been  replaced 
by  the  present  structure  on  Broad  Street;  the  small 
museum  of  paintings,  which  included,  however,  valu- 
able specimens  of  early  American  art,  has  expanded 
into  a  gallery  of  which  the  city  may  be  justly  proud. 
Private  collections,  containing  pictures  of  exquisite 
beauty,  have  been  acquired  by  bequest  or  by  purchase. 
A  generous  endowment  enables  the  Academy  to  buy 
year  by  year  works  of  recognized  merit ;  and  the  wis- 
dom of  the  directors  has  saved  these  pictures  from 
being  covered  with  glass,  a  barbarous  fashion,  neces- 
sary only  in  soot-stricken  England,  and  inexcusable 
in  clearer,  cleaner  air.  The  exhibitions  of  early  win- 
ter have  grown  from  insignificance  into  a  wide  repute 
which  promises  even  greater  results  in  the  future.  It 
is  a  striking  characteristic  of  Americans  that  the  pro- 
foundly discouraging  attitude  of  the  government  they 
sustain  cannot  wholly  stifle  their  love  of  art.  They 
are  willing  to  look  upon  her  merely  as  an  industry, 
and  to  hold  that  she  can  be  regulated,  like  other 
industries,  by  the  law  of  supply  and  demand,  and  by 
an  adroitly  repellent  system  of  taxation.  They  still 
believe  that  "money  makes  masters,"  and  that  it  lies 
in  the  power  of  wealth  to  quicken  the  genius  it  is 
prepared  to  patronize.  But  to  covet  pictures,  and  good 


378  PHILADELPHIA 

pictures,  to  covet  even  a  sight  of  them  if  possession 
be  denied,  is  the  first  step  to  a  wider  knowledge  ;  and 
it  would  be  hard  to  overestimate  the  artistic  educa- 
tion derived  by  Philadelphia  from  her  yearly  exhibi- 
tions, when  from  east  and  west  and  over  the  seas  come 
the  canvases  which  hang  for  two  short  months  upon 
her  spacious  walls. 

If  the  development  of  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts 
be  a  matter  for  wonder  and  delight,  what  shall  be 
said  of  the  development  of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, which,  within  a  score  of  years,  has  expanded 
in  so  marvellous  a  manner  that  none  can  now  limit 
her  future  ambitions  and  achievements.  A  century 
and  a  half  have  passed  since  Franklin's  "  Proposals  " 
went  the  round  of  sedate  little  Philadelphia,  and  found 
favour  in  many  eyes.  The  college  established  by  the 
Philosopher  has  led  a  checkered  life  during  these  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years,  with  much  of  honour  and  much  of 
shame  to  give  it  light  and  shade.  The  high  resolves 
and  brilliant  promises  of  its  impetuous  youth  were 
chilled  after  the  Revolution  into  ashes,  which  barely 
kept  alive  a  tiny  spark  of  fire.  Through  long  periods 
of  degrading  inertia,  when  the  blight  of  mediocrity 
lay  upon  Penn's  city  and  all  within  her  walls,  the 
University  —  its  very  title  a  reproach  —  drowsed  with 
its  somnolent  neighbours.  When  the  town  awakened, 
the  old  college  awakened  too,  and  wholesome  humiliation 
pricked  it  into  action.  Seventeen  years  ago  the  first 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY 


379 


buildings  were  erected  in  West  Philadelphia,  a  modest 
quartette,  substantial,  but  far  from  beautiful,  and  with 
only  fifteen  acres  they  could  call  their  own.  From  this 
new  birth  came  swift  and  steady  growth.  The  spirit  of 
strenuous,  insatiable  progress  moved  forward  with  over- 
mastering zeal.  Even  placid  self-satisfaction,  which 
wanted  to  feel  that  it  had  done  enough,  was  rudely 
undeceived,  and  structure  after  structure  rose  to  give 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  restless  power  within. 


LIBRARY  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA 

To-day  the  University  covers  upwards  of  sixty 
acres,  and  finds  this  space  too  small.  A  library, 
where  the  twenty  thousand  books  carried  over  the 
river  have  increased  to  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand;  a  museum  under  the  same  roof  containing 
valuable  collections  of  Egyptian,  Babylonian,  and 
American  antiquities ;  hospitals  for  men,  women,  dogs, 


380  PHILADELPHIA 

and  cats,  —  for  the  medical  school,  which  formerly  out- 
stripped its  rivals,  still  stands  abreast  with  all  com- 
petitors; an  unequalled  institute  of  anatomy;  a 
botanical  garden;  dormitories,  which  have  even  the 
grace  of  beauty  to  recommend  them ;  halls,  labora- 
tories, buildings  wherein  all  things  may  be  taught 
and  learned,  are  grouped  around  the  earlier  founda- 
tion. The  students  have  doubled  and  trebled  in 
these  years  of  advancement,  the  faculty  has  been 
proportionately  enlarged.  Better  than  all,  the  Grad- 
uate School,  made  adequate  by  liberal  endowments, 
raises  the  University  to  a  higher  educational  plane 
than  seemed  attainable  a  few  years  ago,  and  enables 
her  to  give  her  sons  benefits  they  have  hitherto  sought 
from  afar.  When,  in  the  future,  the  "Free  Museum 
of  Art  and  Science  "  stands  fair  and  complete,  it  will 
be  the  crowning  glory  of  a  college,  old  as  we  count 
age  in  this  young  land,  and  a  connecting  link  with 
that  colonial  period  whose  work  we  reverence,  and 
whose  influence  and  importance  we  realize  more 
keenly  day  by  day. 

Other  institutions  of  learning  has  Philadelphia, 
though  of  less  paramount  importance.  The  venerable 
Academy  of  Natural  Sciences  bears  the  weight  of 
many  years  and  of  past  honours.  The  Drexel  Insti- 
tute, the  School  of  Industrial  Art,  and  the  School  of 
Design  for  Women,  open  their  doors  to  give  what 
practical,  aid  they  can  to  the  great  unanswered  prob- 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY 


381 


lem  of  education.  Within  a  dozen  miles  from  the 
city's  gates  stand  the  Quaker  colleges  of  Haverford  and 
Swarthmore,  built  and  endowed  by  members  of  that 
religious  body  which  has  laboured  so  successfully  for 
the  material  and  intellectual  welfare  of  Pennsylvania. 
And  near  at  hand  is  Bryn  Mawr  College,  founded  by 


PEMBROKE   HALL,    BRYN   MAWR   COLLEGE 

a  Friend,  Dr.  Joseph  W.  Taylor,  in  1880,  for  the  ad- 
vanced education  of  women. 

If  old  age,  with  its  traditions,  and  its  curious  record 
of  right  and  wrong,  attracts  us  keenly  to  an  institu- 
tion, youth,  brave,  unabashed,  triumphant,  dazzles  us  a 
little  by  its  splendour.  Bryn  Mawr  was  opened  for 
scholars  in  1885.  It  is  thirteen  years  old,  —  a  child 
among  colleges ;  yet  its  group  of  buildings  with  their 


382  PHILADELPHIA 

adjacent  lawns,  courts,  and  athletic  grounds,  cover 
fifty  acres.  The  infant  library  —  a  lusty  babe  —  has 
already  twenty-five  thousand  books,  and  three  thou- 
sand dollars  are  spent  annually  in  enlarging  it.  Over 
three  hundred  students  are  accommodated  in  the 
four  halls  of  residence,  —  Merion,  Radnor,  Denbigh 
and  Pembroke.  The  Graduate  School  offers  admir- 
able advantages,  and  has  been  enriched  with  eleven 
resident  and  three  European  fellowships.  Were  Phila- 
delphia wont  to  boast,  even  as  much  as  a  wise 
city  should,  she  would  vaunt  long  and  loud  the 
achievements  of  this  young  college,  which  in  a  few 
years  has  attained  so  fine  a  record,  and  set  so  high  a 
standard  of  scholarship  before  the  world. 

But  Philadelphia  does  not  boast.  She  occasionally 
remembers  that  she  might  do  so  if  she  pleased,  and 
she  remarks  now  and  then,  half  apologetically,  that  her 
Park  is  the  largest  in  the  United  States,  and  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  world.  Only  the  Prater  of  Vienna  ex- 
cels it  in  size,  and  no  other  approaches  it  in  loveliness. 
Nearly  two  hundred  years  ago,  when  the  little  Quaker 
colony  never  dreamed  of  possessing  a  great  pleasure- 
ground  of  its  own,  Mr.  Richard  Castelman,  who  spent 
the  winter  and  spring  of  1710  in  Penn's  town,  records 
the  delight  he  felt  in  walking  with  friends  on  clear 
afternoons  to  Faire  Mount,  in  looking  at  the  river, 
and  breathing  the  wholesome  country  air.  It  was 
not,  however,  until  a  century  later  that  the  city  made 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  383 

its  first  modest  purchase  of  Morris  Hill,  five  acres  in 
extent,  as  a  site  for  the  proposed  waterworks.  A 
little  garden  shaded  by  trees,  with  grass  plots,  grav- 
elled walks,  and  a  fountain,  lay  at  the  feet  of  the 
steep  incline.  Rush's  denounced  statue  of  the  "Nymph 
and  Swan "  was  placed  picturesquely  on  the  rocks, 
where  the  tall  jet  of  water  from  the  bird's  slender 
throat  fell  into  the  pool  beneath,  and  where  the 
maid's  clinging  draperies,  wet  with  spray,  no  longer 
offended  the  decorum  of  Centre  Square.  The  same 
sculptor  executed  two  reclining  figures,  which  were 
placed  over  the  doorways  of  the  wheel-houses  where 
they  still  remain.  One  of  them,  a  venerable  and  de- 
jected old  man,  symbolizes  the  Schuylkill,  fettered 
by  human  ingenuity,  and  chained  in  locks  and  dams. 
The  other,  a  square,  severe  female  of  the  Roman 
empress  order,  typifies  water,  and  was  broadly  and 
comprehensively  described  by  enthusiastic  critics  of 
the  day  as  "unequalled  in  its  kind  throughout  the 
world."  The  only  exception  taken  to  the  work  was 
that  the  vase  against  which  the  figure  leans,  and 
which  represents  the  reservoir,  is  so  full  it  overflows, 
the  little  lumpy  streams  falling  over  the  sides  with 
painful  regularity,  and  hanging  suspended  in  mid 
air.  This  was  held  to  be  "  picturesque,  but  not  appro- 
priate, as  a  reservoir  should  never  overflow."  It  was 
certainly  far  from  veracious.  A  vase  half  full  of 
liquid  mud  would  have  been  nearer  truth. 


384  PHILADELPHIA 

The  little  Park  became  in  1825  a  great  favourite 
with  the  public,  and  all  strangers  visiting  the  city 
were  taken  to  sit  under  the  trees,  and  to  examine  the 
waterworks,  which  were  not  then,  as  now,  a  mass  of 
complicated  machinery,  propelled  by  steam,  and  of 
interest  only  to  the  initiated.  In  the  old  days,  when 
an  afternoon  at  Fairmount  was  the  keen  and  crowning 
pleasure  of  childhood,  huge  wheels  revolved  slowly 


LILY   POND   IN   FAIRMOUNT   PARK 


in  the  black  water;  awful,  mysterious  wheels,  terri- 
fying beyond  measure  to  infant  Philadelphians  who 
peered  down  trembling  from  the  rickety  wooden  cause- 
way into  the  abyss  below.  The  vibrations  shook  the 
slender  balustrade  against  which  they  leaned;  in  the 
semi-darkness  the  swirling  eddies  were  churned  into 
foam  ;  their  hearts  throbbed  with  a  delicious  ecstasy 
of  fear ;  the  world  seemed  turning,  turning,  with  those 
mighty  wheels  down  into  the  rushing  waters;  and 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  385 

then  —  when  they  could  bear  no  more  —  came  the 
swift  revulsion  from  terror  to  exquisite  delight,  as 
they  climbed  back  into  the  sunshine  and  the  warm, 
soft  air,  and  saw  the  staid,  familiar  grass  plots,  and 
heard  the  fountain  splashing  cheerfully  in  its  marble 
cup.  All  is  changed  in  that  little  old  corner  of  Fair- 
mount,  which  has  been  long  abandoned  for  the  more 
beautiful  walks  and  drives  beyond.  The  hall  which 
had  such  a  delightful  echo,  and  in  which  stood  Rush's 
wooden  figures  of  Justice  and  Wisdom,  has  been  dis- 
mantled. The  marble  boy,  whose  shameless  naked- 
ness was  half  hidden  by  the  spouting  fountain  jets, 
has  disappeared.  The  Nymph,  who  seems  destined, 
poor  thing,  never  to  find  a  permanent  home,  has  been 
lifted  from  her  rocks,  and  placed,  in  the  centre  of  the 
garden.  Even  the  children  have  broader  playgrounds 
now,  and  no  longer  run  ceaselessly  up  and  down  the 
steep  reservoir  hill.  The  world  moves  on  its  way, 
and  every  city  holds  spots  like  this,  once  prized,  and 
now  neglected,  once  full  of  life,  now  empty  and 
forlorn. 

The  Park  grew  slowly  until  it  counted  its  first 
twenty-four  acres.  Then  Philadelphia  began  to  taste 
the  sweets  of  proprietorship,  and  coveted  wider  lands. 
Lemon  Hill,  Sedgeley,  Lansdowne,  and  adjacent 
estates  were  added  from  time  to  time.  Some  care 
was  taken  to  improve  the  grounds,  and  keep  the 
roads  in  order.  The  beautiful  Wissahickon  Glen, 
2c 


PHILADELPHIA 


where,   in    the    days    of    the    Founder,    the    German 
mystics  had  built  their  huts,  to  await,  amid  the  fairest 
scenery  they  could  find,  the  coming  of  the  millennium, 
was  purchased  in  1868.     George's  Hill  was  presented 
to  the  city  by  its  aged  owners,  Mr.  Jesse  George  and 
his  sister  Rebecca,  in  whose  family 
it  had  remained  for  generations. 
Many    ancient    landmarks 
and     historic     man- 
sions  were  in- 
cluded in  the 
boundaries 


mount;  some  carried  thither,  like  the  little  Letitia 
House,  built  by  William  Penn  for  his  discontented 
daughter ;  some  standing  where  they  had  stood  for 
a  century  or  more,  like  Mt.  Pleasant,  the  home  of 
Benedict  Arnold,  Belmont,  the  home  of  Judge  Peters, 
and  the  "Solitude,"  that  Liliputian  dwelling-place 
erected  by  John  Penn  the  younger,  when  some  whim 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  387 

for  isolation  possessed  his  restless  soul.  Even  the 
"  Castle,"  the  time-honoured  abode  of  the  Fishing 
Company,  which  is  the  oldest  club  of  its  kind  in  the 
United  States,  was  enclosed  in  the  wide  confines  of 
the  Park. 

The  Zoological  Garden  was  opened  in  1874,  a  hand- 
some, well-appointed  garden,  perhaps  a  shade  less 
melancholy  than  most  of  these  sad  prisons  for  beast 
and  bird;  —  where  the  polar  bear  gasps  in  our  torrid 
heat ;  where  the  caged  eagle,  motionless  as  stone,  gazes 
with  sombre  eyes  into  the  forbidden  blue ;  and  the  lion 
paces  hour  after  hour  its  narrow  den,  unutterable  long- 
ing, unutterable  weariness  in  every  languid  step.  The 
day  must  come,  though  it  seems  far  distant  yet,  when 
an  advanced  civilization  will  question  its  own  right  to 
condemn  wild  creatures  to  lifelong  captivity,  for  the 
amusement  which  we  call  complacently  instruction. 

In  Fairmount  Park,  the  crowning  glory  of  Philadel- 
phia, the  city  has  realized  in  her  own  way,  and  as  best 
she  could,  her  Founder's  desire  for  green  fields  and 
spreading  boughs.  Closer  and  closer  creep  the  houses, 
even  in  the  suburbs  which  once  had  breathing  space ; 
higher  and  higher  tower  the  great  business  buildings, 
lifting  their  stone  walls  against  the  sky;  fouler  and 
fouler  grows  the  poisoned  earth,  until  the  trees,  which 
once  lent  grateful  shade  to  the  hot,  glaring  streets, 
wither  and  die.  But  near  at  hand  —  a  recompense 
for  all  such  evils  —  lies  this  vast  civic  demesne,  these 


388 


PHILADELPHIA 


broad  acres  that  belong  to  all ;  with  wooded  tracts  and 
deep  ravines,  with  hills  and  dales,  and  brown  streams 
rippling  into  shallow  pools,  and  the  river  winding  its 
leisurely  way  through  the  heart  of  the  people's  play- 
ground. The  possession  of  this  park  illustrates  the 
temper  of  the  town  whose  English  colonists  brought 


<£*. ..  v  -•  -  r* 

FLOWKR   BEDS,    FAIRMOUNT   PARK 

over  the  sea  a  love  for  the  country,  and  country  life ; 
and  whose  rich  citizens  built  themselves  suburban 
homes,  considering,  like  true  Britons,  that  the  great 
pleasure  of  prosperity  lay  in  the  acquisition  of  landed 
estates. 

They  think  so  still,  for,  indeed,  the  city  built  by 
Penn  has  retained  many  of  "the  characteristics  which 
first  distinguished  her.  It  is  not  so  easy  as  the  careless 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO-DAY  389 

believe  to  relinquish  a  birthright,  to  escape  from  an 
inheritance.  Onward  we  must  move,  but  our  finest 
development  lies  along  the  lines  marked  out  for  our 
first  footsteps.  The  debt  Philadelphia  owes  to  her 
Quaker  colonists  is  no  less  apparent  because  she  has 
put  aside  fashions  of  speech,  and  dress,  and  public 
worship.  It  is  true  that  only  for  a  few  weeks  in  the 
year  may  the  drab  bonnets  and  broad-brimmed  hats 
be  seen  in  the  crowded  highways,  and  that  they  grow 
less  marked  with  each  succeeding  spring.  Yet,  never- 
theless, the  impress  of  the  Quaker  hand  lingers  still ; 
not  only  in  the  simple,  dignified  old  buildings  to  which 
time  lends  an  added  charm,  but  in  the  ineffaceable 
spirit  of  the  town.  A  quiet  town  always,  at  which 
noisier  communities  point  fingers  of  derision,  mistaking 
bustle  for  advancement.  To  pass  from  a  great  sister 
city  to  Philadelphia  is  like  leaving  Paris,  where  every 
one  conscientiously  strives  to  make  as  much  noise  as 
he  can,  and  entering  London,  where  every  one  con- 
scientiously strives  to  make  as  little  as  he  can,  the 
result  being  a  grateful  silence,  healthy  for  mind,  and 
soul,  and  body.  Even  wealth  wears  a  strange  air  of 
modesty  in  the  old  streets,  where  once  the  prosperous 
Friends  gave  little  outward  token  of  the  fortunes  they 
amassed  and  enjoyed.  Money  is  the  same  great  power 
all  the  world  over,  but  there  is  ever  a  limit  to  its 
autocracy ;  and  in  Philadelphia  it  is  expected  to  show 
as  little  arrogance  as  it  can,  which  is  a  virtue  that 


390  PHILADELPHIA 

must  be  acquired  in  the  beginning,  but  becomes  a 
gracious  instinct  by  inheritance. 

A  strong  attachment  to  whatever  has  been,  an 
equally  strong,  and  often  well-founded  dislike  for  inno- 
vations, characterize  Penn's  city,  which  has  seldom 
thirsted  after  novelties.  Her  prejudices  are  ancient, 
deeply  venerated,  and  unconquerable.  Strangers 
within  her  gates  protest  vehemently  against  these 
prejudices,  and  explain  their  absurdity  in  the  clearest 
and  most  convincing  manner.  They  waste  a  great 
deal  of  valuable  time  in  this  way,  and  are  never  quite 
sure  whether  they  have  been  listened  to  or  not.  If 
the  day  ever  comes  when  logic  will  persuade  as  easily 
as  it  preaches  and  proves,  the  face  of  the  earth  will  be 
altered,  and  Philadelphia  may  change  with  the  chang- 
ing world. 

Above  all,  the  Quaker  City  lacks  that  discriminating 
enthusiasm  for  her  own  children,  and  the  work  of 
their  hands,  which  enables  more  zealous  towns  to  rend 
the  skies  with  shrill  paeans  of  applause,  and  to  crown 
their  favoured  citizens  with  bays.  Philadelphia,  like 
Marjorie  Fleming's  stoical  turkey,  is  "  more  than 
usual  calm,"  when  her  sons  and  daughters  win  dis- 
tinction in  any  field.  She  takes  the  matter  quietly, 
as  she  takes  most  other  matters,  preserving  with  ease 
her  mental  balance,  and  listening  unmoved  to  the 
plaudits  of  the  outside  world.  This  attitude  is  not 
wholly  wise  nor  commendable,  inasmuch  as  cities,  like 


THE  QUAKER   CITY  OF  TO- DAT  391 

men,  are  often  received  at  their  own  valuation,  and 
some  degree  of  self-assertion  converts  many  a  waver- 
ing mind.  If  the  mistaking  of  geese  for  swans 
produces  sad  confusion,  and  a  lamentable  lack  of  per- 
spective, the  mistaking  of  swans  for  geese  may  also 
be  a  dangerous  error.  The  birds  either  languish,  or 
fly  away  to  keener  air,  and  something  which  cannot 
be  replaced  is  lost.  Yet  anything  is  better  than  having 
two  standards  of  merit,  one  for  use  at  home,  and  one 
for  use  abroad;  and  the  sharp  discipline  of  quiet 
neglect  is  healthier  for  a  worker  than  that  loud  local 
praise  which  wakes  no  echo  from  the  wider  world. 

A  quiet  town.  Her  mobs  which  once  went  mad 
with  joy  over  the  Revolution  in  France,  or  mad  with 
zeal  for  a  religion,  ill-understood  and  ill-obeyed,  have 
been  calmed  by  age,  or  by  the  influence  of  a  community 
which  never,  even  in  moments  of  folly  and  degradation, 
lost  the  saving  grace  of  sanity.  It  is  true  that  much 
that  is  new  and  much  that  is  bad  have  vulgarized  and 
vitiated  the  old  tranquil  life ;  but  something  that  was 
given  to  the  infant  city  as  she  lay  cradled  between 
her  two  rivers  remains  with  her  still,  some  leaven  of 
modesty,  some  legacy  of  soberness  and  self-restraint. 
Still  the  tender,  pathetic  appeal  of  William  Penn, 
when  he  bade  farewell  to  the  colony  he  had  founded 
and  cherished,  rings  in  our  ears,  and  finds  an  answer 
in  our  hearts:  — 

"  And    thou,    Philadelphia,    the    virgin    settlement 


392  PHILADELPHIA 

of  this  province,  named  before  thou  wert  born,  what 
care,  what  service,  and  what  travail  has  there  been  to 
bring  thee  forth,  and  preserve  thee  from  such  as  would 
abuse  and  defile  thee.  Oh,  that  thou  mayest  be  kept 
from  the  evil  that  would  overwhelm  thee  ;  that,  faithful 
to  the  God  of  thy  mercies,  in  the  life  of  righteousness, 
thou  mayest  be  preserved  to  the  end." 


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